I usually have a rock or a bead in my jeans pocket
A collection in a stoneware bowl on my dresser
Holds ones that speak to me
I chose one in the morning
To take with me on my travels
Even if my travels means staying in the house all day
Rather than speaking to me, they feel good in my hand
Knowing one is there is also enough

Rocks that roll into my path I keep
If they can travel with me
I always thought they had a reason
Or a story to tell me

I have shards of pottery given to me by an old man in the last days of his life
He told me tales where he and his wife found them
When they were young and hiking through the Southwest
These shards have colors, shapes and layers of clay
I gave one to a friend who had cancer
And he kept it in a pouch in his pocket until the shard was worn away
As the his tumor in his thyroid dissolved and went away
Made by ancient women, the shard still had power

I gave a glass marble once to Andrea Dworkin at one of her readings
The brightly colored blue and purple marble had been with me a long time
I hadn’t planned to give it away, but as she spoke to me
And wrote her name and a greeting in my dog-eared copy of one of her early books
I handed the marble to her – she looked at it and paused
She told me thank you and that she needed that right now on this tour
She was tired and wanted to go home.
I smiled as she put it in her pocket.

I carry a small raw opal in memory of my son
Its colored fire comforts me as it reminds me of his passion of life
And how he is gone too soon
But lives on – in a reminder in my pocket

Try it sometime
Select a rock and carry it around
Maybe you will give it a story to tell

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