The Rock
On
beaches far away you are thrown
finding the very centre
deep in my heart...
Generations
of stone throwers
leaving their mark,
scars on the landscape
where labyrinths are found...
My wounds are
revealed
for all to see,
the ravages of battles waged
for reasons no longer remembered...
I pick you
up,
the desire to fling
you into the well
where you will fall forever,
is strong
and almost overwhelmes me...
Instead
I hold you to my breast
and a single tear falls instead,
leaving ripples
that break over me again and again...
Washing onto the shore of my beginning
where I stand at the edges of my endings...
For I am from
the rocks
but not of them...
Lea Goode-Harris
©
April 30, 2001