Fire in Stone

            The ordinary man

sees only stone,

dense as new moon night,

lifeless,

immobile, except when

Earth becomes jealous of Sky

and clutches stones to herself,

away from bright hillsides,

and they crash through

bedroom walls.

Then kitchens fill

with people in black.

            The warrior

sees only fire,

solar storms,

high-noon heat,

unforgiveness, the

revolutionist’s manifesto

and the bloody cauldron

that cracks the earth’s crust

and drains the reservoirs

of mothertears

until kitchens burst

like black balloons.

            The shaman

sees fire in stone,

a simmering thought,

the ribbon tied between worlds,

the Great Is

standing still like

dancing natives

photographed in firelight,

creation and annihilation

tumbling together down hillsides

to flatten walls

and fill kitchens

with the immutable laughter of being.