[For Virginia, I follow]

Standing on the shore
I have decided.
I chose stones

I will fill my pockets with love,
with care, with intent.
My act of self-love.

Lined up, a collection of :
different weights
different griefs.

Each stone carries within
its own savage beauty.
Kindness betrayed.
Great loves remembered.

These stones,
These stones,
Oh, how they broke my Goddamn bones.

But,
I am not broken.

I say,
I am,
practised.

Worn out. Rubbed raw
My paper skin hands
turned over
small
pebbles of slights
into silk.
Smooth, ready to pass back.

There were rocks thrown.
Sharp-edged.
Targeted
Heavy with hatred
All were Injured

Pushed boulders without purpose

I, a believer in sin,
deserved
The first stones cast
by the faultless.

You will blame
The ugliness of the stones
Don’t.
They are what they are.
Just rocks to hear
truths no one could bear.

They will witness my will.

The body follows,
finds the place
My soul sought rest
years before all this.

Back to the sea

Nature,
left to be
Sublime.

Never asked to be calm
A tempest cannot be tamed
I tried.

And then the stones they said:
No.
And the sea said:
Come back to me.
And I heard the call:
Each day

Loud is the sound
of thunderous seas
Heard in the shells
I hold to my ears

I carry my stones
to the sacred place
of rebirth.

Pockets laden
I chose stones. I have decided.

I do not doubt, nor fear the shadow of the valley of death

With the unbearable lightness of being,
I am free from feeling nothing now

Write on my final stone
“Forgive me”