A Shiny Rock
I noticed you immediately
Standing out, apart from the others
Like a rock with veined sparkles
Draws attention to itself
Whether meaning to or not.
I reached out unthinkingly
It seemed so natural, so instinctive
To want to touch, to want to hold,
To want to understand
I thought I saw the shadow of a key
I grasped to insert and it fit the lock perfectly
The door opened ever so slightly…
It took some time to realize
Attention warranted by my knock
Was no more than that, say shed upon
Someone selling girl scout cookies
It never swung fully ajar
Or welcomed free entrance
To cross a warm threshold
I’m the type of person who wants to know the contours
To intimately run my fingers across each scar and bump
To coax all unseen to light, exploring every crevice
Connecting what was blind to blessed sight
But I guess sometimes a rock is just a rock
Preferring an existence untouched, unmoved.
It doesn’t want to be dug up or fly free through the air,
Doesn’t want a pretty polish or to skim across deep waters,
Nor be carried in someone’s pocket like a precious keepsake;
And should simply be left alone …to weather it own elements.
~Camille Cheek
25 Jan 2010
I noticed you immediately
Standing out, apart from the others
Like a rock with veined sparkles
Draws attention to itself
Whether meaning to or not.
I reached out unthinkingly
It seemed so natural, so instinctive
To want to touch, to want to hold,
To want to understand
I thought I saw the shadow of a key
I grasped to insert and it fit the lock perfectly
The door opened ever so slightly…
It took some time to realize
Attention warranted by my knock
Was no more than that, say shed upon
Someone selling girl scout cookies
It never swung fully ajar
Or welcomed free entrance
To cross a warm threshold
I’m the type of person who wants to know the contours
To intimately run my fingers across each scar and bump
To coax all unseen to light, exploring every crevice
Connecting what was blind to blessed sight
But I guess sometimes a rock is just a rock
Preferring an existence untouched, unmoved.
It doesn’t want to be dug up or fly free through the air,
Doesn’t want a pretty polish or to skim across deep waters,
Nor be carried in someone’s pocket like a precious keepsake;
And should simply be left alone …to weather it own elements.
~Camille Cheek
25 Jan 2010
5 comments:
Hey Cam, this'll put a whole new slant on my way of thinking during rockclimbing now! ;)
And just the other day i was thinking of a rock. A solid slick, smooth stone. Something the waters of the amazon might of molded centuries ago.
I could not help but smile reading this. I admire river rocks. There's just something so serene about the vibrancy and sound of water flowing over them. Especially in places where the sun peeks through trees on a windy day playing hide and seek. And the rays land randomly creating little twinkling stars to highlight the size and shape of each rock and expose their hidden veins! There's usually nothing in my head at such times of mental relaxation, but now I suspect I will probably think of this poem! :)
"I’m the type of person who wants to know the contours
To intimately run my fingers across each scar and bump
To coax all unseen to light, exploring every crevice
Connecting what was blind to blessed sight."
I love that verse, Camille! :)
And sometimes a rock is not a rock, only just a shell. Smiles
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