I embrace the rock. We hug. It holds me warm, solid, in gentle mountain breeze. Warmed in Ra-sun surround, I hear my breath. Forestalls stunning silence in the back of in my running mind.
A Paiute warrior runs barefoot on the hot, sandy terrain. I am him
How beautiful the black and white metallic glitter rock spikes light. Speckled and striped like my dear old tiger cat’s back.
A crow darts up in the sky. It dove from olden days behind a pile of mountain rocks, last time. I follow the bird, thinking of my betrayal to my grandmother and ended up surrounded by rattlesnakes, as if her spirit wished me ill.
My insides twist again, though the rock does not let go, in its great compassion. Nor abandon me like Mom did. People think they are superior to mere lifeless rocks. The Native Americans said stones have the oldest spirits, should be respected.
Donna appears in my mind’s eye, from forty tears ago. Just thirteen when I pulled a knife on Donna. She said I did that but to this day, I do not remember. My first drunken blackout. Just like Mom had all the time.
She pulled open the knife drawer on me, age three. Said “if you ever say you’re a boy again, I’ll kill you.” Jesus was not there to protect me. The church lied, everybody lied.
So now I latch onto my therapist for dear life, but he won’t fuck my brains out so I can forget for awhile. So I do it in secret.
Wind blasts, howls all off a sudden. Did I anger God with my thoughts? No one here to judge. I’m safe. The rock is safe as well. It holds me in quiet strength, soothes me, warmed by sun. It doesn’t get angry no matter what I say or do.
Rocks have stayed here, warmed by the love of the sun and cooled in the dark moons for eons. Waiting and watched dinosaurs, and will see the end of the world in quiet expectation in sweet song. We sense something more is coming.
Patience. My spirit animal turtle.
To think when You were cremated, Mom, your ashes will be rock. So, this rock is all people and I and we are all people.
I wonder if it will take eons to love you again.