I wrote this after the 9/11 episode. When a few weeks later I was filled with depression, Dave sent me to he North Shore of Superior so I could seek heart-healing. I wrote a lot while there, some serious, some historical, some humorous. Two of the poems were funny. This is one of them. And this is truly "me".
I have many-hundred rocks in my not-large yard. From everyplace in the country or around the world where I've visited or lived. And I never stop smiling at, or grabbing, rocks. In fact, I have a few in my car this time from Wyoming on the way here to the NW. Expect to grab some more here, especially from the Oregon coast, because I don't anticipate ever returning.
Go home without rocks? I don't think it's possible to NOT
add beauty to my house and yard and heart.
Today I feel very serious about a lot that has happened. Family and social issues. Rejoicing and heartbroken. Extremely back and forth.
Decided to share this with you, because it's filled
with truth and joy and shows my funny side.
Most people don't see that side of me often enough!
|Tettagouche State Park, Minnesota|
Scripture says, “the rocks ... cry out” --
(My out-of-context translation)
And they did.
[They really did!]
I planned to not take some home.
(That is what I planned!)
But they would have none of it.
They shouted to me
to rescue them -- take them away --
away from battering waves and
freezing blasts of wind --
Shouted with colors
and barnacle-patterned mouths.
And I !!stopped!! --
just for a moment --just for a short glance.
And they grabbed me --
my heart, my soul, my arm --
and forced me to pick them up --
until they over-flowed,
first hand-- and then pocket,
and finally made a temporary lodging
pouched in my over-sized sweatshirt.
[Taking me to the shore and saying “no rocks” --is akin to taking a
to a penny-candy store and saying,“We’re only looking.”]
For some reason the spaces, colors, division, isn't occurring in reality. Sorry.