Spirit Stone at Norris Beach

oil on board 9"x12"

I am posting this with a poem written about this rock by one of my neighbours, Farrell Boyce. Thanks, Farrell.

Spirit Stone

 

Below the stairs, along the beach,
An upthrust tongue of stone
Emerges from a bed of shelly sand.
Logs assault in winter storms,
Abrade their flanks,
Then lie exhausted in the half-tide mornings.
Sand and weed pile this way and that;
Each day a new opinion,
Albeit conceding to the stubborn rock.

 

Is this rock a story
Like those old Claxton tells
Of ancient spirits turned to stone
To warn or guide all passers?

 

Once I saw a girl of twelve
In some intense transaction with the rock,
Placing and replacing shining shells
In the black crevices that could hold them.
In movement, her slim body
Traced all the contours of the mound
Like fingers on a rosary,
Lips moving in soundless incantation,
Unheard but potent in its mystery.

 

Could this girl know or somehow feel
The roots of stone anchored to the matrix of the earth,
Pulled by matter's need to mass
Into coherent shape?

 

She became my priestess as I, too
Wove my prayer
Around this slow-dissolving stone.

 

(November, 2008)

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