During these hot summer days I find I want to merge with the coolness and mystery of stones. Here is a poem offering just for the joy of poetry.
Look for a new Poetry Party on Monday (and a return to regular ones this fall!)
Go inside a stone
That would be my way.
Let somebody else become a dove
Or gnash with a tiger’s tooth.
I am happy to be a stone.
From the outside the stone is a riddle:
No one knows how to answer it.
Yet within, it must be cool and quiet
Even though a cow steps on it full weight,
Even though a child throws it in a river;
The stone sinks, slow, unperturbed
To the river bottom
Where the fishes come to knock on it
I have seen sparks fly out
When two stones are rubbed,
So perhaps it is not dark inside after all;
Perhaps there is a moon shining
From somewhere, as though behind a hill—
Just enough light to make out
The strange writings, the star-charts
On the inner walls.
–Charles Simic, The Voice at 3 A.M.
This is such beautiful imagery. After reading this and having collected stones over the years, leads me think that perhaps they are my bothers and sisters and I have been a stone and never realized it. Peace, Carol Joy