Talking Head (Poetry)

Are you the myth made tangible in stone —
some symbol of humanity unknown
without a name but bearing all the weight
of everyman — his nature and his fate?

Unseeing eyes and lips that cannot speak
in sun and rain you turn the other cheek
the hard plains of your face long-weathered smooth
chiselled soft, each dimple, pock and groove.

I could write your history — invent
a tale to suit your visage — so present
answers to enlighten and describe
some hero this dumb stone has failed to hide.

You talk — you tell of agonies untold.
You speak of youth — resist all growing old
and keep immortal love locked deep within.
Your silence broods, while I stand listening.