It was a pebble made of glass
I held it in my hand
bygone-milk-bottle-blue it was
had washed up on the sand
It’s once-rough edges all worn smooth
ground with the weathering
like my rough heart, fallen to earth
then stirred by tide and rain.
I held it to the light, observed
it’s dull opacity
some echo of how it had served
yet unrevealed to me.
Silent pebble, talisman
you guard your secrets still
you hold a truth which no one can
divine, for good nor ill.
And so I cast you back to earth
whisper a passing curse
under my tongue, beneath my breath
for better or for worse.
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Written for dVerse
Tonight, Linda hosts Poetics, and has given us a choice of words from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows by John Koenig. We are to choose one (or more!) words from a list, and write a poem around it, or about it. I chose the following:
Lisolia: the satisfaction of things worn down by time, broken in baseball mitts, the shiny snout of a lucky bronze pig, or footprints ground deep into floorboards by generations of kneeling monks.
I just love the sound of the word, which immediately made me think of a sea-glass pebble…