may we all be heard
words are bells
let them ring!

Thom World Poet Austin, Texas, USA
Global Radical networker and activist for promoting the live Creative Arts,
at every possible opportunity, especially in his home-city, Austin, Texas, USA

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

my sister's farm

has the usual wild trees-and birds
(i saw two black cockatoos!)-snakes
and a creek that flows through stones so well polished
you could slip and forget you were not water once
So i sat on the edge of that creek/bald spot in a photograph
and i let the stones support me,my legs dangling in the cool clear waters
rushing past on their path to some other person's thirst
(it is what you take with you-i could not carry huge rocks
just rounded river stones -less sauna stones
more round coin worlds of stones-more than pebbles/less than mountains
and i gave what i loved away-so it may illuminate some pilgrim
who cannot come to the edge of wild rivers to sit and drink
who can carry small stones in their hands or pockets
to make fluid what seems a world of dirt and rock
what has come from water carries water
we are what we carry

No comments:

Post a Comment