.
Take small stones
and imagining their history
hold them
Let the sediment fall
and waiting until there is
no more mud
take what you see
You’ll remember how they split
in violent earthly fits
in tempers of steam
before the coming of ears
You’ll see them fall
as you fell from your father
like chips
into the soft cup of your mother’s hand
and from there into your own
Hold to their shapes
and you’ll feel the suck of your lungs
filling their caves
with northern January breath
……………………………
Jim Culleny; 1975; Christian Science Monitor, 1977
…………………………….
Advertisements
