Day 5: Rocks

a poem a day in the month of may

Friends,

I’m noticing so much beauty and care happening here already, in the way you’re sharing your words and encouraging one another.

If you’re just here to read and observe-thank you for holding this space and continuing to open these emails!

If you’re writing on your own without sharing, keep going—it’s a beautiful spiritual practice and I’m so glad you’re here.

I also want to pause us here for a moment and mention that if you’re not a writer but instead process words in other ways, you are welcome here, too.

Our very own Rev Emily Ewing emailed me an image created from some of our word prompts and I wanted to share it with you:

Isn’t it beautiful? I love that Emily took these words and created these moving images.

Create however you are drawn to create. It’s a gift.

And please, let me know about it if you do!

Now, onto today’s poem:

Rocks

Rocks are beings, we are taught.

I think of the stone-giants

hurling rocks toward Bilbo the thief

and his crew as they held on for dear life

to the leg of one being

as the other dashed them to bits.

Rocks are alive, we are taught.

I think of them as I climb

up their faces outside,

as I lay tobacco at their feet

and thank them for letting me stay.

Rocks are wise, we are taught.

I think of the years that have passed,

the wisdom that grows

as water changes their surfaces,

melds their faces into new shapes

as they age and become.

The rocks, they teach us.

The rocks, they know.

And we, dear friends,

are just like Bilbo in their wake.