Standing Stones

You are so new!
whisper the sacred stones.
Around the outside I walk,
shy in my rookie status,
a tiny blink in time,
hoping my species makes it
to the ensuing spiral of evolution.
I come to the circle to learn.
The standing stones smile,
mothers whose children’s mistakes
are loved as dear and right.
Though the stones look solid,
their pores and capillary structures
hold all the old stories,
to which I come to listen.

But can I, whose life
is like a mayfly’s day,
hear a being whose span
is ten millenia long?
I must slow, and slow.
And slow.
The stones only appear
to be standing still.
Inside the circle now,
I lean my back against a stone,
resting my immaterial waves
against the singing frequency
of the standing stone,
I fall into ancient oneness.

I travel with the stories,
changing ideas of who I am,
of time and death and space.
I travel past
limits I thought I had.
An ocean of light
flows out from the stones,
rolls from today
back to the day I was born.
Light that lifts, light that transforms
the hurts of all the years.
How the stones console me.
I find myself forgiving
everybody, everything.

When the journey is complete
I slowly rise,
newer than new, and older too.
Grateful for the knowing in my bones
that the river of stories
now carries me, and will,
carry me along my path
until I leave this form
and fall again into the joining.

©Susa Silvermarie 2021

thanks to Amantha Murphy for her guided visualization journey to the Standing Stones

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