River Rocks
Sometimes
the river is not ice.
But we have
nothing to ask.
We could
listen, like river
rocks do,
perhaps learn what
the
current is trying to say.
Little
sprays burst for a moment,
fall back
in the stream. Maybe
they tell
us what we wanted
to know when
we fell and ice
kept its
own counsel last winter.
It didn’t
even say, I’m sorry
or I told
you so. But now the river
is free. All sorts of sounds
make sense.
Maybe we should
shut up
and listen, like my brother
said at Lake Powell
like the rocks,
quiet one day.
—Donnell
Hunter
21 February 2012
Love the rocks, donny. They have a life of their own; sacred in ancient time as holy markers, mineral memoirs, full of water if need be. This is one of your finest.
ReplyDeletethanks. The photo got me started, but I kept noodling it.
ReplyDeleteI've had an idea in my head today I want to explor further, maybe tomorrow. The Atonement is the ultimate manifestation of agency. We didn't ask him to do it, but he chose when he offered and we rejoiced because we had faith he could bring it off. I'll see what happens.