Stone

from Out With Lanterns, a poetry practice

I’ve passed countless stones 
on this daily walk, but
one called to me yesterday, 
asked me to carry it. 
Small, brazil nut sized,
one stripe near its top. 
I bent over, picked it up, 
obedient. Curled my fingers 
around, then pressed it to 
my heart and made a circle. 
Stone, wisest earth element,
had something to offer me,
something to say about resilience. 
Grandfather stone rests
in my collarbone now, tells me 
not to despair, says nothing stays,
even evil. The rock’s lines
tell stories of disruption, 
division, violence, fire, and still, 
when I hold it, it borrows 
my heat, warms itself, my body
not yet returned to earth, 
not yet ready to be carried.