Walk on a rocky beach
seek a single stone
a white stone worn
smooth and buffed
by large hands using
the sea to sand and
grind, and shape and
contour, flatten.
The stone bears a name,
my name, the name
I do not know.
This poem is submitted to Open Link Night at dVerse Poets. To see more poems submitted, please visit the site. The links will be live at 2 p.m. Central time today.
Photograph by Sue Rawlings via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.
Really like the image of "large hands using / the sea".
ReplyDeletePuts me in mind of the eternal. Centuries of histories...hands...the constant smoothing and moving of the sand... love stones...especially beach rocks...my imagination tends to run away with all their untold histories.
ReplyDeletewe are all stones being worked by that water and those hands arent we...into something...with a name we dont even know yet...smiles...nice write sir...
ReplyDeletebeautifully thought and written - someday we'll know that name...
ReplyDeleteI love all of this... thanks Glynn. So beautiful.
ReplyDeleteLove this. Love it. Thank you.
ReplyDeletefinding yourself when you are not even looking...you never know when the lessons come.
ReplyDeleteHmmmmm, interesting!
ReplyDelete"the name I do not know"
I will look at polished stone in a different way now.
unnaming ourselves is a wonderful practice.