Onyx

I am excited to begin reading The Whipping Club by Deborah Henry. Not because it only cost $2.99 at Amazon, but the story intrigues me. This book recently landed on O’s Summer Reading list. Tweekspeak Poetry Press is so proud to have their first novel honored, they are sponsoring a poetry and photography contest this week.

My second entry to the contest finds me exploring a love of mine – rocks. I have collected rocks since I was a young child scouring our gravel driveway. Polishing rocks, learning about their meanings, and making jewelry with them,  still finds me happily creating today.
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Onyx

My father handed me a dark gray stone
“Onyx”
He said as he sifted through the gravel
Gray was all I saw
“Hold it to the sun”
As I turned the pointy rock in my hand
Rough against my skin
A glint, a sparkle caught my eye
A fine piece to polish-up
All shiny like the eight ball
From Grampa’s favorite game

“Open”
He commanded
And as my palm faced the cloudless sky
“Onyx”
Was all he said
No glimmer this time
But another surprise
Veins of reds and golds and greens
Would polish-up just fine, too

Walking back to the shop
Under the blazing heat
I studied the two
My reward for the day
Rocking the twins between my palms
“Onyx?”
My eyes up to his
“Um hm”

It will take a lot of time to smooth
The sharp and scratchy
I will be patient
Water cools and tumbling rounds
I will wait
With a little bit of grit and persistence
Each will emerge radiant
One pitch as the night sky
The other worthy of an Egyptian ruler’s crown
And yet, both
“Onyx”

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