Like a Stone

I know what it means

to have a heart like a boulder

heavy and hard


than the rain in winter,

than the ice

forming on the stones.

I did not know how to change it

and as the years went by

I despaired of my strength

but that did not stop me

from dragging the stone up the mountain,

off cliffs,

over hills,

into sun and out of it,

and beating on it with rocks.

And then it broke.

From the inside.

Do you know how?

Because it was not a stone,

but an egg,

and while I had been hating it for its hardness,

another had been lavishing kindness,


and being close,

and warming it with a burning,



nurturing the life within

that I had only dreamt of.

(This poem is a response to Hardened Heart, by Blair King, found at: )


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