Stone

I hold this stone.
This stone is weathered,
Beaten over countless hours by an unrelenting mother.

I carry this stone.
A charm, sentiment;
An idea.

I feel the groove my thumb has left on this stone.
It has been with me through suffering;
Therefore, it must also suffer if it is to join me.

I look at this stone.
I kiss this stone.
This sediment that once helped bear life,
Now stares blankly back at me.

It waits.
I imagine it smiles.

I am no stone.
When I see this stone, I understand it is something I will never be:

Eternal, wise, unbreakable.
& so it is.

The stone.