The stone of sadness
sits solemnly
on the shore of your self
sits solidly in the gravel pit of grief
settling ever deeper amid
speckled pebbles
the grit of dried tears
slowly cooling
             and ever trickling
        sand 

once arrived
the stone of sadness
is quite prepared to stay 

At first it rode upon your shoulders
put pressure on your brainstem
but that was brief 

Though it can take
a while to be felt
the stone of sadness
always sinks into the belly
lies cradled in the pelvis
its solid weight
fills your centre
a flat grainy ovoid
granite or the like
oblivious to the pounding
of your inner sea 

it is archaeological
genealogical
bio-historiographical 

its energetic tendrils
pulsate subtly
in the centre of your torso
every now and then
jolting you into awareness
of the invisible
open wound
alongside your heart-space 

eventually you’ll stop
minding it quite so much
and act as though it isn’t there
though the surprises
never cease 

it may grow moss
seem to soften its surface

but in this life
the stones of sadness
only add up
grow denser

a sentient heap
you carry deep