I have deep veins –
pure white, crystal veins
held in a hardness
that was mud, that is stone.
I have been grains –
crushed in dark fire
melted in vastness
made layers, made folds.
I am refined –
yet broken again
ground from a roughness
by oceans, by cold.
I have returned –
a fragment, a stone
somehow a wholeness
a new thing, an old.
I am defined –
through all I have lost
shaped into roundness
for your hand, for your hold.
2012 © Andie Davidson
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