Throwing Rocks


Throwing rocks

out into the water.

Watching them splash down

and the ripples

radiate out.

We were silent,

barely even there.

Just trying to get away

without feeling.

Times like these are hard.


and your father’s funeral.

He never wanted

a big affair,

but so many people came.

You were young

and I still younger,

but I knew

the whole thing

made you scared.

You tried to say

you were more worried

for your mother,

and your sister,

but I could tell

you were a mess inside.

After the church service

there was a wake

at the home

of your aunt and uncle.

Your mother’s brother,

who seemed nice enough,

but you and I

soon grew bored

and left

out the back door.

There was a big fish pond

on the back side

of the property.

Ringed around with willows

and a gravel bank.

The water was calm

and still,

we could see the sky

reflected on its surface.

You looked down,

bent, and picked up a stone

and threw it

as hard as you could.

The splash

shattered the silence,

flushing some ducks

from the far side.

They took to the sky

and our eyes followed them

as the disappeared

into the distance.

Not sure

how long we stood there

throwing rocks

into that pond.

I remember hearing my mother

calling for me

to come along.

We were going home.

So, I took one final look

into your eyes

and I could see

what I had known.

Every stone

had been a tear cried.

As we drove away,

all I could think of

was those ripples

in the pond,

and how,

once they reach the edge,

they’re gone.



DJR – 2023

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