Monday, March 25, 2019

written in sand?

a spear point,
from just after the Ice

“it’s not written in stone,”
a way to express transience,
the ephemeral capriciousness
that can be our moments,

a month ago I was working in the garden,
laying down brown paper to hold down future weeds
that would compete with my Native American pumpkins,
I shoveled dirt over the paper,
choosing places to shovel 
where small rocks topped the dirt,
a week later, after rain, 
I was covering the paper with leaves,
and one rock spoke to me
I picked it up, 
and it was a broken spear-point, 
maybe 8000 years old,

a way to touch that long-gone man and his life,

he wrote with stone,
and the stone point faintly echoes of his life,

I love to feel continuity
with something more permanent
than the sand with which we can live our lives.

by Henry H. Walker
March 24, ‘19

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