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a new stone

Fluid like water in a bay,

the tide comes in and takes the simple mind away.


Left underneath are shells and stone,

cracked open and exposed.

The mucky land is dirty and undesirable.

Can you make something with this?


With mud and clay and shattered bone.

Water rush in and out, make me a new stone.


Jagged in edges, cut and hurting.

What’s such a stone to do but cut the one whose hand it’s holding?


Every eight hours or so, the water fills the tide pools.

And all of the brokenness underneath gets to hide.


With the pull of a magnetic moon, the sea retreats.


Would you give me the space, time, and the grace to

allow myself to be

broken again and again

until I myself set me free

from the pain and uncertainty

from repressed love and insecurity

oozing bits of distrust and unluck

my body is a map of the things

that have happened to me

the state of my mind is the aftermath

of the things I have seen

and my soul is a starlight connection

to pain and freedom

to love and hate

to god and devil

to see and be unseen

all of that, it dwells within.

I cannot reach this greater capacity

until you unearth and crack open the Greater Me.

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