You might pick up this poem
\nas I would a stone.
\nSomething to ponder, examine.
\nThe stone would reveal its hardness,
\nbut the shape of its heart
\nwould pull my fingers over it,
\nand it would lie in my hand weightless.
\nWhat would my few seconds
\nbe to it,
\nmy soft hands
\nholding a million years,
\nthe taste of my truth
\nas you look at, peruse,
\nfeel invisible words,
\nlike the poem you would look at?<\/p>\n
Reading the words
\nthat never made it to the page.
\nThe invisible silences of space,
\nthe roads running above
\nand below the words,
\nwhere I came from,
\nwhere I am going.
\nWhere I can explain
\nnothing of myself or the stone or time,
\nbut my teeth taste it.
\nThe salt of my life,
\nmy few moments,
\nthe voice inside me
\nthat can\u2019t be heard,
\nthe face that can\u2019t be seen,
\ndown a path where words stop
\nand the stone finds itself
\ncaptured for awhile.<\/p>\n
We all want to be seen,
\nto be understood,
\nto be loved,
\nand remembered,
\nnot for what we were,
\nbut for what we took into ourselves,
\nand like a wave,
\nput back,
\nto be discovered,
\nlove given away without regards.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
You might pick up this poem as I would a stone. Something to ponder, examine. The stone would reveal its hardness, but the shape of…<\/p>\n