“And a rock feels no pain,
   And and island never cries.”
Why then these tears,
Unseen; cries that fall
Upon the lonely desolation
Where, hiding from the world,
My soul has made its home.


  “I have my books
   And my poetry to defend me.”
Why then these fears
While I sit behind my wall
Of untouchable and consecrated isolation,
Wrapped within myself, curled
Like a foetus, infinitely alone.

  “I am a rock,
   I am an island.”
Why then all my years
Passed by without a call
Of joy or love, an ultimate concentration
Camp of tedious cowered huddling, hurled
And broken against my own
Well constructed solitude.

  “I am a rock,
   I am an island;
   And a rock feels no pain,
   And and island never cries.”


                                           1975
                    (excerpts from “I Am A Rock”,
                               Paul Simon, 1965)