posted on: Thursday September 26, 2019
by Erin Venuti ’20
Every place I go, I take a rock,
So, when I’m floating off,
My feet will know to stay calm.
In my hand, the stone warms, wakes,
Remembers the spot from which it came–
A shore, a city, a country, a place–
Not long ago, I weaved my way
Through clotted streets,
Where crumbling concrete sidewalks
Turn to cobblestones,
Past gray ruins and vibrant pink houses,
Toward that stretch of stones
That’s kissed by the whispering water;
Where, regardless of the month,
The cement wall and stony shore are always cool.
Until the roofs of the houses behind us
Are warmed by the sun
And our faces are warmed
By the laughter that surrounds us,
And, suddenly, the rock doesn’t seem so cold.
Before I go, I take a rock,
So, when I leave this place
and I’m floating off,
My feet will know to stay calm,
And I’ll remember the spot from which I came–
That shore, that city, that country, that place.