Anger fills my bones,
Like stones,
Anchoring me to the soil.
I cannot budge.
And like the mountain,
Though not serene,
I sit.
Heavy,
Immovable,
Permanent.

But nothing is permanent,
Even the mountains,
And like the earth,
I rumble and groan against my burden
And the fury rages and turns
Over in my gut
Preparing to spew
These stones that are not mine
Across the earthly plane.

Will one gather them
And turn them over in their hand
And see the scars on their surfaces
And wonder where they have been?
Will they sit
On display?
A trophy of my pain,
A lesson ,
A symbol of martyrdom,
A rough exterior
Encasing a beautiful,
Crystalline
lotus of wisdom?

And once this poison
Has been returned to the earth
To cleanse and be cleansed
I am neutral.
A tower of neutral stone
A monument
A skyscraper
Observing the passage of time,
And reaching for the heavens
In innocent, intuitive knowing.
Like the infant stretching arms
up to his mother
For the comfort of her
Orbital motion.
I sit.