that pebble placed
so thoughtlessly
like a chain letter on the brim of your cap
cannot be dropped
for fear of death
be still absolutely still
on the edge of the cliff
holding tight a grass tuft
on the ancient head
while pouring out the accumulated
regret of time lost and self doubt
broken dreams and misplaced emblems of success
an empty vessel
a hundred feet above the ocean
a scratch mark on the cobalt stain
of the open sky
rejected as a roost for gulls
the squawking crows wanting more
than they deserve
remaining still in the midst of all
this after sixty frantic years
fighting to stay awake and not perish
tasting the wind now
that carries trace portions
memories of the sea
over which it sailed
the eternal sea in perpetual motion
rolling and breaking against the black rocks
the shaman’s rattle hissing
the ritual dance soft moccasin
shoes in the wet sand
the alchemy of change
pain to love
the aching heart rocks against
its cage looking for a way out
No comments:
Post a Comment