It's Still Life

The Lodestone

In my hand a chisel, carving
deep into this lodestone,
into its iron-brown body
releasing dreams caught,
prayers said, ancient fires
that once sparked and bled.
A thief of fire, it burned
down our open doors.
And so, its return
I will set to paper,
recite scribo volo,
repeat incantations,
scribo volo,
words folded, creased against
my fingernail and then
I throw that stone, and all
it’s taken back into the sea,
to the depths of history’s well.

[note: a lodestone ˈləʊdstəʊn/ is a naturally occurring magnetic stone]. written for Sunday Whirl #285 This week’s words are stone, dreamed, bled, carved, body, brown, prayers, papers, fingernails, doors, fire, soldiers