The occasional, often ill-considered thoughts of a Roman Catholic permanent deacon who is ever grateful to God for his existence. Despite the strangeness we encounter in this life, all the suffering we witness and endure, being is good, so good I am sometimes unable to contain my joy. Deo gratias!

Sunday, October 16, 2011

The Prayer Stone

I finally found it
in the back of a drawer
with paper clips and pencils, 
under a box of erasers
I'd bought long ago
but never used. 
Its polished surface
shone black against my palm.
My hand closed around it, 
felt it's cool smooth artificiality.
I wondered at the 
absurdity of it all.
No primitive sacred stone
was ever polished 
by a rockhound,
sealed in a mesh bag 
with fifty others, 
and sold to church ladies.
Yet it sits on the counter
where it reminds me 
to touch it
a hundred times a day 
and ask the impossible 
of my God, not a stone. 

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