These Are Not The Stones

These are the stones He gave me to carry.

they’re not the ones I want to remember.

These are the stones with which I’ll tarry,

But I’d rather be somewhere better.


Across the river, to the other side,

Away from all the noise and chatter.

It’s more comfortable to run and hide.

I’d much prefer to do the latter. 


These are the stones He gave me to carry. 

From the middle of the river bed

They aren’t for me to go and bury.

He’s asked me to stack them all instead.

By

JL McCarthy

June 2, 2020