The man you see
Hard like a stone
That forgets how to feel—
Once, he was a waterfall.

He laughed like falling water,
Ran toward light,
Spoke in sparkles,
And cooled every fire
With just his presence.

But too many hands
Tried to hold him,
Shape him,
Stop him.

Too many hearts
Let him fall
And did not catch.

So he dried.
He cracked.
He froze.

Now he says nothing.
Feels nothing.
Just stays still.

But if you listen close
On quiet days,
You might hear
A faint sound inside.
Not quite a cry,
Not quite a song,
Just the memory
Of a time
He flowed.

The spring inside is still there,
But buried
Beneath the stonefall.