Sometimes in life, you are the metaphorical rock that keeps someone steady.
They will never ask.
It’s a silent understanding.
You are there, strong and solemn.
Intact and whole while their surface cracks and crumbles.
With every trouble, with every worry,
their heartache becomes your own.
Crashing into you like waves in the sea.
You brace your self with appeasing grace;
welcoming each tide as if it were spring rain.
But like every rock, stone weathers over time.
You’d never know it unless you take a closer look.
This time the metaphorical rock is weathering on the inside.
Every wave soaks deep.
Every rain drop splashes into a puddle that has formed on the hollowed inside.
With every breath, it’s hard not to drown.
But you are stone.
Stone will survive.
Stone will endure.
And every day brings a new sun.
A sun to create warmth that flows through to ease every gasp.
Evaporating what once was, to make room for what will be.
Leaving the secret hollow with enough hope to keep from caving in.