When she lobbed a stone at me,
I’d long since taken down the walls
that might have offered protection.
Nothing to do then
but hitch a ride on the stone—
a direct trip to the core.
Had I known how quickly
it could carry me into self-inquiry,
I might have put the stone in her hand.
Nah. Still, I thank her.
Where the stone fell marks the spot
where I was. Already, the soft green moss.
Thank you for this one!
Oh friend, these reminders to go in, to see beyond the hurt and into the invitation to see the self and what matters most …