"All that came out of them, came quietly
like the four seasons." -Chuang Tzu
all the stones and pebbles
you've spent your life collecting
fling them back into the waters
the dead sea
cast them off the rim of chaco canyon
return them to the mountain of the rising sun
let them fall from your hands
unbearable
a trail of them
leads home
that crumbling foundation
overgrown with poplars
the pink granite boulder your father plowed up
it had a vein of quartz
from that same field
a stone axe head broken
the sharpness of its edge
made by those who came before
return these to their places
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