PEBBLE

You fit comfortably in the palm of my hand.

So smooth—no rough or jagged edges.

When you were on the beach you were just another pebble,

but as I look at you more closely I realise that you are special—unique.

If I picked my way through all the pebbles on all the shores of all the world

I wouldn`t find another you.

No artist could have painted such delicate designs

with shades of pink and brown and cream,

here and there the faintest shimmer.

Have you been sprinkled with stardust?

Were you there when God moulded the world at the dawn of creation?

Have you come from a far off star?

Did you speed through inky blackness

passing a myriad stars in the solar system to land on earth?

Tell me pebble, did you begin life deep within the depths of our world,

molten larva, boiling, burning, hubble-bubbling?

Were you waiting patiently to escape

from the claustrophobic confines of your prison?

Yes,

one day I felt the earth quaking and trembling.

Then it was up, up, up, in the air,

with dense black smoke and fierce flames.

I didn`t know what was happening.

But oh, it was joyous freedom,

rushing, gushing down the mountainside;

bumping, bouncing, part of a vast red-hot river destroying all in our path,

plants & people, houses and trees—

such tremendous power.

Onward, onward, ever onward,

now slower, slower, coming… to… a… stop… rest at last.

Such a relief from all the turmoil.

Then I heard a gentle soothing sound. Whoosh, shhhhhhhhhhh, whoosh, shhhhhhhhhh.

Oh, it was so good, cool water lapping around me,

covering me over, taking the heat away.

But where was I? It seemed such a strange place.

I didn`t recognise LIGHT.

I could see so many different things.

I know now that I was on the sea-shore.

I haven`t always been this smooth.

It`s taken 1000`s of years of the sea picking me up, putting me down,

picking me up, putting me down,

gently rubbing against my fellow pebbles,

moving in time to the motion of the waves.

Not always gentle.

Sometimes there have been great storms

when the strength and power of the waves

has tossed me about like a rag doll, flinging me so high

I thought I was returning to the fiery furnace.

Then crashing down again, flung against my fellow pebbles

as though we were having an abrasive argument.

I don`t want to go back there, inside the mountain, the deep dense darkness.

I don`t want to be spewed out again either, causing so much death and destruction.

I noticed that after each storm I felt stronger inside myself,

some more rough edges had been smoothed down, making me a better pebble.

We all lived together so well on the beach where you found me,

but I`m so happy that you found me, I feel safe in the palm of your hand.

Thank you, pebble. When storm clouds hang over me I must remember to pick you up,

remember the things I`ve learned from you today.

2007

* * *