Southern
Memos, IV - Choices
Somewhere
in the hills about
the
village, heading south
a
rock has been growing every morning
for
the past 16 years
developing
a sense of direction
a
notion
of
memory and the will to
make
irrelevant but regular
decisions
become
refined
actions
With
a
pit at the center where one
would
expect centuries of wind
deposits
ending their vulnerable
existence
this
rock cages
an
elegant womb – inside
which
flowers prepare their
birth
and
bloom during dreams
So
often I walked through
failing
to see how
different
this
rock was.
©
2016, José Coelho
