I feel robbed of my usefulness
five years gone searching my foothold slipped down a mountainside I built from the rubble of my past
it was a beautiful cairn tall wide stable supportive until those that joined me atop its peak began to carry away
stones held together as they’d been now easily dismantled despite my conscious efforts and the accolades
these stone carriers professed as truth it was
just not as I ate it
truth just not as I built it
so tumbled down the mountainside turned to look behind at what tripped me up seeing there is nothing there
but my own dream reality held beautifully but mistaken for it’s own demise
to rise again not by my hands yet hands are needed to carry stones and set corners into place
were that my strength were enough
five years gone robbed I say of my usefulness I blame no one
yet myself stands in accused aching remove my shoes I must I am on sacred ground
flattened by the falling no will to stand maybe that is its own answer to the search
for the perfect stone to being the bearing of gifts
again again again