River Rocks

River rocks, born of fire and destruction,

Spewed from earth’s molten belly,

Rough hewn and resting
On the muddy bank of a mountain stream.

River rocks, torn from the quiet bank

In a spate of froth and foam

And cast into the wet frenzy;

Broken and battered smooth

Tumbled in the river’s wild torrents,

Pummeled by the currents.

Dragged on the river’s bottom

To be snagged in weeds,

Torn loose, and snagged again.

Rough edges, battered smooth In the eddies
and polished in the foam;

Coming to rest in the shallows,

Finally smooth, finally rounded,

Finally a perfect color drawn from within their hearts

River rocks, harsh and rough edged,

Smoothed through life’s course into the perfect shape,

The shape to which they were born, without knowing.

Surviving the battering of the river, knowing the pain,

But not the purpose,

Until they arrived and reflected their final perfection

In the still waters for which they were created.