“THE HEALING STONES”
The healing stones now resting
Fondled and smoothed by
Fingers as gently as Hail Mary beads
Of those seeking grace - questing new life
Now stilled by hands
uncertain of
Direction or destiny, begging to rise
Like the Phoenix from fiery ashes.
The colors of agates,
crystals,
And rose quartz, erased and tossed
Into brackish waters, lashing
At the seaside, salty on tongues
Speak
to Gods, crouching
And praying on knees with
Bowed heads, requesting miracles-
Sometimes answered, sometimes
not.
Uncertainty, soaked in blood and stains
Of grassy patches drift outward,
Sealed in jars, wedged
in ghost-ship
Gallows, to be tasted by sea nymphs,
Mermaids, and saved by fishermen
Casting reels off wooden
bridges.
When opened- a breath, a whisper,
A sigh escapes and drifts along
Corals swallowed up, then spit back.
The
Queen of Hearts, the dreamers
All with black diamond crowns, scribbling
Journal entries will await with nets
On
coasts of oceans and impatient streams.
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