“THE HEALING STONES”
The healing stones now resting
Fondled and smoothed by
Fingers as gently as Hail Mary
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,
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
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
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