stoned

 

stoned

by peter green

i worked with stone today

carved from the earths core

millions of years young

what it has seen i cannot imagine

locked within its gravel bed

stuck

lodged

protected

i pulled the stone from its hiding place

i studied each piece

carressed

like a work of art

every edge cut smooth and precise

but there was no canvas to project my Rock Art

i drove my fingers into the brown gravel and sand

grit wedged beneath my finger nails

my hand found an edge

and pulled

the boulder exposed

sand fell clean revealing grey and white tones

each piece connected to the next

an endless jigsaw puzzle

no right no wrong

no good side no bad side

boulder in hand

I strained

finger bones gripped

tendons pulled taut

muscles tightened like sinew

i lifted the heavy weight to my chest

both arms heaved outward

the boulder smashed into the living pile

with a spark, flashing cinders of light

split, like an atom

then there were two

each with its shape, each with its purpose

two shapes

free of each other

and yet connected

by

molecules and particles and matter that causes their existence

another piece found its place into my sculpture

i cannot predict what the shape will be

my canvas is the contour of the earth

weeds and flowers and trees

flowing rivers of landscapes

my Stone balances and makes true

the art created by the Creator

For one brief moment in time

i am the Creator

Moving, shifting, digging, lifting, planting

where is the balance?

i think out loud

the sculpture will not fall

a voice tells me

move Stone with your heart

ignore your brain

for it is only an organ

it will only convince you

you are not good enough

you are not smart enough

you are not strong enough

you are not creative enough

the Creator would not plant these lies upon your mind

your being

your existance

your self

now...create

pg 2009