This next poem is entitled "Stones."
It isn't pride.
Is it?
Keeps you there anchored in your vast solitude.
I know you can hurt me if I let you,
my feet have told me as much.
When you let me have my way with you I always wind up angry.
You've stood the sun longer than any of us could imagine.
My hands strain listening for the echoes
of old burnt-out fires.
The indifference other people notice in you only blinds them.
How many know you suffer each change of the weather wearing
an identical phase?
It should be clear by now you mean what you do not say.
Now that I feel your silence inside me
I can realize your gravity.
I will become sink to the floor of myself,
the very oceans where you practice concentration
and the soft elements wear you down."