When she was a little girl, stepdad hurt her so
I met her at 21
Inchoate, away from home
We drove up to Illinois
And ran through a glowing field of hope
She was a new world...
I was caught up in what could grow...
Our heads trembling
Our hearts in a race;
Worried that the light we'd seen, had already taken place
A vivid and bright night; I was praying eagerly to sleep
Hiding away in my bunk, hoping that out there some part of me would keep
Always thought I knew the song;
I'd just memorized the words
But truth grew through like a bramble weed
Ripped up what I thought was me…
I remember lying there, learning a joy that thrived in grief
Thinking about a garden I left…
Where there was nothing hiding you from me...
When I was a little boy, my head set tempest rage
My mom would comfort me- A spark lit in thick of hay-
Told of a river stone -a quartz rock cut with my new name
-a thought so troubling -a ringing I hear to this day...
The little white stones
You tossed in the water of my mind
Made clear the water's edge
But left waves behind:
…All reflection…
…taste on my tongue...
Feels like…
Light e c h o .
(linger in my eye.)
We tried stolen fire
We tried form alone
Give us a white stone!
We tried etching names (with)
Coal, gold, skin and bone…
Give us a white stone!
I tried to find it in that field of corn--buried in her eyes
But all the names we called ourselves lost rarity with time
And they'll build over what was there
All I have only holds together for so long--and that thought almost k**ed me
But the lovely sound of what you wrote, that only you and I know
Holds me together
And though it all goes
Tell me again of the white stone