I do not have the same joys as my family
Though I may share their jewels of wisdom
I do not carry the same stones.
I am (in) a frail slate,
A shale of myself, comported to the world
An inverse geode,
Glimmering outside,
Volcanic within
Stoic
Stony and unfeeling…
Yet the stone is a stone
Due to its toughness.
It is neither weak nor strong
Nor impregnable.
It is composed. Solid. Standing.
Sound.
I love this imagery! I like the idea of this kind of family symbolism. Gives me an idea for something about old rivers...
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