Stone
Go inside a stone
That would be my way.
Let somebody else become a dove
Or gnash with a tiger’s tooth.
I am happy to be a stone.
From the outside the stone is a riddle:
No one knows how to answer it.
Yet within, it must be cool and quiet
Even though a cow steps on it full weight,
Even though a child throws it in a river;
The stone sinks, slow, unperturbed
To the river bottom
Where the fishes come to knock on it
And listen.
I have seen sparks fly out
When two stones are rubbed,
So perhaps it is not dark inside after all;
Perhaps there is a moon shining
From somewhere, as though behind a hill—
Just enough light to make out
The strange writings, the star-charts
On the inner walls.
~ Charles Simic ~
(The Voice at 3 A.M.)
We used this poem a writing prompt in my writing group a while back and I am still held captive by its brilliance. Simi’s words hold extra power for me because I spent the first 18 years of my life surrounded by stones, rocks, fossils geodes. I’ll tell you why, my parents were serious “rockhounds” they collected, cut, polished and traded rocks! This slice of a geode is from their collection.
Geodes are so welcoming
they do certainly invite you to come inside
and explore whole new solar systems.
Where does this one take you?
Light Words 
I knew where that stone came from when I saw it. I sure learned a lot about “rocks” from your parents. Loved to watch them cut into them and then polish them. Also going “rock hunting” a few times with them. So interesting. Got to watch them pick up an ugly rock . . . . but when your dad would cut it open, wow!! Just unbelievable. Still have a couple they gave me, and treasure them. I think the belt buckle they made for me is still in the closet. lol (Really) It has an agate mounted on it. (sure won’t fit me now though.)
Neal
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what a beautiful, magical, poem by Simic. I had not read it before and so resonate to his words. there is magic and mystery in stones. You grew up knowing that, how blessed.
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I knew you would like this and have a lot of memories. You got a belt buckle cool. The rock business has become a big business now. Taken all the fun out of just going out looking for rocks.
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And by the way, that buckle still has the belt on it. Needless to say it won’t fit me now. Hee, hee
I think I was probably around 15 when they gave that to me. Wore it a long, long time. . . . .probably until I grew out of it. Guess I could get a new belt for it, huh?
Neal
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Thanks for outing it that way. When you’re a kid you don’t notice I guess it seeped in some where. That poem is on my hit parade of best poems. 🙂
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