Stone's Throw
A poem about grace in futility
A sky of unblinking lead,
drained of every hue but one:
the housecoat flapping like a patchwork flag,
the knotted scarf holding back her hair
and the world
••●━━━━━━●••
She stands on the edge of the curb,
anchored to a monochrome map by thin sandals
The air is thick with alchemy,
the sharp scent of wood smoke
drifting through a dry, biting draft,
a rebellion of heat in a cold, grey light
Disregarded warnings
••●━━━━━━●••
She does not look up
She is a pendulum that has found its arc,
a clock with no hands
measuring time in the friction of bristles on stone
The broom is too wide,
a heavy industrial weight
meant for factory spills and closing shifts,
but she pushes it
into the mouth of the gale
with the steady pace of a conveyor belt
that doesn’t know the line is empty
••●━━━━━━●••
She shoves the dust into an abyss of air,
but the incline of the wind is too steep
The debris rises in a mocking loop,
r o l l i n g back to her feet
in a cycle of constant arrival and refusal
Nothing is cleared
The concrete holds its ground,
indifferent and stained
Yet she persists with graceful futility,
her eyes fixed
on the circularity,
undisturbed
by the lack of an ending
••●━━━━━━●••
And I, stalling out in a body that won’t settle,
watch from the corner with a tightening chest
I see my own life in the sweep of her arms,
the caretaking, the ache, the persistence
of a summit we will never reach,
a burden that refuses to stay conquered
••●━━━━━━●••
I cannot tell if she is a warning or a sage
Is she hollowed by the repetition,
or has she found the secret,
that the weight simply belongs to us?
As the wind rolls earth back to her toes,
I feel the grit in my own eyes,
though she has not seen me watching,
I adjust my grip on the day
••●━━━━━━●••
We are just two bodies in the grey,
moving against a wind that does not know or care
that we are there
━━━━━━━━━━
🎶 Let it roll. . . 🎶
All rights for the music reserved for the artist.
Contains whistling, so mind the time.
Thanks for being here.
Until next time,
j
Oh wow I was truly missing out on your work. So deep and heartfelt! Love it with every fiber of my being
There’s something very still and heavy in this. The quiet persistence stayed with me 🤍