Glass and Stones

They said not throw stones,

but how else were we to move them?

Dislodge them from where they lay, scattered all around

the inside of our house

like the unwelcome belongings of strangers

Small piles

Oblong, and flat ones stacked to resembled inukshuks

even though they'd never guide our way

Some propping up windows

and keeping the holes from appearing so

distracting us from the real

messes that we'd made

I got tired of stumbling on them

Of stubbing my toes

On sharp edges I'd seen the day before

And promised myself I'd manage out of the way

If I could go into your brain

And unwrap the fibres

That must have gotten tangled

So endlessly, I fear

I'll never be able to see

Where your farawayness ends

And my happiness begins

I would

I'd find whatever it would take

I'd lift the stones gently out the way

Even though I want to throw them

I'd look under each one of them, carefully

For the garden shears, or a pair of nail clippers

A jackknife, a whittle or a thimble

Anything this house has been hiding

That might let me cut the fibres loose

I would

It breaks both of us, more than glass could ever shatter

That you can't be my home

That the tangles keep you away

And lock you in a place

I'm sure not to recognize from one day to the next

After I smashed all the walls

Trying to get these careless stones

Out of sight and out of time

And out of the way

Home became what it always had been

A space inside that formed around the boulders and binaries

Yes, somehow I gathered myself around the places the stones used to be

I realized I could see and breathe

a homecoming everyday

that is you through me

the nod of all that came before us

birthright by the wind

a movement that cannot cease

so long as we are there to see it

a home woven inside my veins

steadfast through every pulse that sustains me

A soft, quiet expanse

that will never have to be tidy and put away

to be neat and precious

to be steadfast

that promises, somehow

that it will still exist tomorrow