For As Long As I Can Remember....

..I've had a passion for rocks and stones.

When I was little I couldn't understand why everyone didn't see the beauty and value in every stone I found. I loved them all, they didn't even have to be that unique. To me they were jewels that were there for the taking. To hold a stone in my hand makes me feel the strength the earth gives us. Something solid, something real.

I have a friend that knows this about me and so this morning he called me to tell me that this past week a new Poet Laureate was named. He is Charles Simic. He had heard him recite a poem called "Stone" and he thought I needed to read it.
And he was right. IT speaks to me so I wanted to share it.


STONE

“By Charles Simic”

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
And listen.

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.