My Poetry: And It Stoned Me

And It Stoned Me

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Sat, watching waves lick the beach

like a dog in summer
I find a stone and I'm stoned,
A thousand lifetimes
Cupped in my hand.
Silent, constant like the water
Which shaped it,
Or as if it'd seen things
It could not articulate

Or understood all words

Lost truth in translation.
Quite, like it had seen seas

Which no longer exist
Except in myth,
Like it could not tell of its birth
Formed in the breast
Of infant moss mountain
Riven by infinite time
Whose back was scarred
From ancient footprints.

Could not tell of how
It's been thrown by hand

Of unknown man
Knee and back bent
To a matriarch diety.

Could never speak of the day
It survived robed preachers

Whose twisted tongue
Spoke of ritualistic secrets
As they confiscated innocence
Singing from hymn sheets gilded

By soiled coin;
Curupt men who put worth
In stone tablet words
Then forgot to look
Beneath their noses
At a simple stone
And question why
Some mountains reman silent
Reaching to caress
The sad cheek of sky
While others caress
pebble beach sea
And others incite
Violence and greed.