Grains

9.15.11

Oh, material of love

sand, pigment, dirt

you carry and contain

flecks of our souls

encased and preserved

carefully and tenderly

in your grains

in your structure

Let us be one!

Why is it only us

who does any holding?

Why don’t you cling?

Falling, rolling, blowing

Away the wind carries you

in a way we only desire

Your cradle, we mimic

but our clumsy hands

reproduce a crude craft

and all dismantles itself

swinging, throwing, flinging

all that was precious

into the dark

empty womb of the unknown

And then we grieve

until a new pearl is found

again

or else give our lives

to death

and lie