Memory Word

I wait a long time
But it’s only quiet
For a last word
A stone carving
Kneeling silence
Rust in the rain
No heart creaks joy
The marker touched
My index finger rests
Old joints sting
This freezing moment
Broken bowed bent beside
Tears mixing a slow torrent wind
Breath and whispering whipped away
I listen for that single one
As if I could hear it spoken yesterday
Hope is was even if
No single echo today