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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

Stillborn

The intensity of stone
leaps from David.
What did Michelangelo say to himself?
His throat hoarse with dust.
Was the marble soft as water?
Did he ignore the pain
as David emerged?
Himself a father.
Ironic sex,
until his son stood like a rhapsody,
face as pure as morning.
Without sorrow.
With the patience of everlasting life.

Did Michelangelo come to the hall
to see him?
Did he stand in the shadow
afraid of the whiteness?
The light that came from his creation.
Did he,
before his death
pray for David’s life?
That he walk with the blood of man
inside himself?
That David would call out
for his father?
That he pled,
do not leave me mute and hard!
I see you in the portico.

I heard you whisper to me
when no one listened, that I
come alive!
Speak to me before I die!
Do not let me be a god
who cannot put warmth in his child!
Do not let me be alone
with a silent angel!
I threw my chisel at Moses
when he refused to speak.
Is that what Michelangelo said?
When he turned his face to the wall
and wept for the voice
he could not give him.

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