SITTING ON A ROCK


The slight lapping of waves on the rocks
The sun setting just beyond the crest of the hills
Light shinning across the bay
Calm and reticent without a breeze

The rock pointy and hard beneath me
How often have I come here to think
Sorting through life�s problems
And to dream of possible futures

All to often alone
In a fantasy world of my making
Wishing for things to change that never will
This is my safe place

People may walk by
They do not take notice of a boy sitting on the water edge
Of the thoughts that stream through his mind
Of the troubles that haunt him as he grows

They only remember the games of youth
Not the contemplation of a world ending
The evening news telling of men dying
What may lie ahead for this young man

The contradiction of heroics and death
Form in his mind, for what purpose
He asks, can there not be peace
Then wanders off into battle

Surrounding him is death
Its smell distinct and wrenching
Wiping from his body the soil of the earth
Remaining in his memories all that he sees

Michael V Hechtman Copyright � 2001