Rock (Prose)

Rock

“Don’t like me yet

Because I don’t know what I am doing.

I am not floating on top of the sea water

or even on top of the sea weed

I am a rock that got blown off the cliff above

and into the sea below

and I am sinking

and it’s what I do

and I cannot be saved

so don’t even try.”

These were my words

But you did not listen…

You reached your hand into the water

and you grabbed a sinking rock-

Not because it was pretty

but because it was sinking-

and it is your job to lift things that are drowning

apparently

and you do it

you do your job

and that’s good

because I am a rock-

a single brown pebble that once was on a cliff

but blew off

and I was supposed to drown

and I felt undone here

and I didn’t know what to do

and I was scared…

The sea

In all its vastness

Makes a little stone like me

Quite invisible

I would have just melted into the sea floor

and that would have been ok with me

but you said

“Stop it

I don’t care.

All I want is for you

to be ok

with you.

So don’t worry about me

Just be you.”

And so I sit on your shelf in your beautiful warm home

and I know you could have put more shells up here

or some artists dream

but instead

you put me there

a small, brown rock

so I came to know that I too

am beautiful, in my way.

And it is because of you.

--Eric Marley

December 2011