Tuesday, October 5, 2010

a smooth stone

you went years and years on your own
thousands    perhaps    or even
touched only by wind and salt or a brush of fur
a leathery pad    an animal passerby
but all of it wild    all of your encounters
feral and free and natural as the passing of time
a human hand reached out
saw you among many and chose you

you were held in the palm of a hand
how did it feel?  the first time    the first warmth
and beating pulse    wrapped around your smooth curves
a lifetime of coldness and wilderness

would you rather have been returned to the sea
never to be touched by a human hand again
only to settle within an atlantic periphery?

or would you rather be kept
held warm in a pocket    uprooted
to some western landscape    foreign    and frightening
but altogether beautiful?

an eternity on your own
is that what you would have wanted?

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