By the West Fork of the Pigeon River

By the West Fork of the Pigeon River

a poem

If you lie down and are still,
Beside the West Fork of the Pigeon River,
You can hear stones walking.

If you are still,
You can hear them gurgle and bump
As they catch current and kiss.

If you are still,
The water’s white noise and roar
Becomes the doorway to your contemplation.

If you are still,
The stones become those sedimentary
Old hurts you once thought immovable.

If you are still,
Let the river of grace do what it does best:
Removing the soul’s stones that keep you from the flow.

If you are still.