The Poetry Inside the head. (Anita's Collection of poetry and other short stuff) - 1. Of Thorns and Rocks

Of Thorns and Rocks

The summer is almost over, and he grabs his bag for a walk.

Outside there’s a path but there are a lot of rocks, and it’s overgrown with briars. Up the hill there is a road, but the road is steep and it leads to unknown places.

He turns from the road and starts heading down the known path.

Walking through the briars is uncomfortable, but it feels safer even if it hurts.

Barely through the first bend, he stumbles on a rock.

“I can’t stumble on them if I just remove them.”

He looks at it, it’s big and has sharp edges.

Not knowing where else to put them, he puts it in his bag, thinking the road will be easier to walk if he just brings them along.

But there are more rocks, and the bag gets heavier, yet he continues walking.

Summer passes and autumn’s here, slowly draining the world of colors. Over and over he passes by the hill, but he can never find the courage to get off the beaten path.

Round after round and soon the bag is getting too heavy to carry.

He looks at the hill again, and he’s not sure but this time something changes.

Winter has arrived with snow, and the path is almost overgrown with briars. They scratch him up every time and the cuts go deep.

At the bottom of the hill, he can see a cairn other travelers have erected.

By the cairn he can see a sign. “Place a rock on the cairn, so other travelers will find their way.”

Something in him makes him take a rock from his bag and place it on the cairn, and he takes a small step up the hill.

There is something about the hill that compels him to keep going.

The snow is deep and the dark is falling. Now the world is black and white and the hill feels very heavy. But he keeps walking.

Just another step and the new direction, and it somehow feels like it is the right direction to go even if the bag is so heavy.

The cairns show the way further and they feel good to lean against to rest.

Another cairn, and out of the bag, another rock.

The winter is slowly passing, and by the road now runs a fresh stream.

Another cairn and yet another rock is placed, and the road doesn’t feel as heavy anymore.

More steps, more cairns, and winter gives way to spring. The darkness starts going and the light makes the going easier.

In a clearing further up, a figure emerges from the trees and waves.

“Come. Rest a bit. You have come far, but there’s further still to go.”

The bag feels unusually light, and a rest does help now.

From the clearing, one can see all the way down to the old trail. It looks so far away now, going in a circle with it’s rocks and bushes.

“Far down there, where you’ve walked like so many others. The bushes that overgrow the trail and the uncomfortable rocks.

“But I see that now you only have one more rock in that bag. Let me look at it for a while. It was, after all, the first one you picked up. Leave your bag here, you won’t need it anymore.”

The bag is laid down by a tree, and the figure looks at the rock.

It’s big, heavy and spiky. It has a flat side and the figure brushes it’s finger across it. On it you can see a weak word. “he”.

The figure keeps brushing the dirt away from the rock, and brings it to the stream. He cleans the rock off in the stream, and brings it back.

All the sharp edges are now gone, and the rock is smooth and pretty.

With golden writing: “She”.

The figure gives the rock back, and she can tell that it no longer weighs anything. She looks up at the figure and says, “I’m ready.”

The road further up the hill is still steep, but she’s had a rest and she’s no longer carrying a heavy burden.

Summer has finally come, and all the colors have returned.

The road ahead will still be heavy, but at least she’s no longer walking in circles.