Just That Small

Beginnings. . .

Just That Small

It was in the darkening month,
when fear held its tight grip,
and threatened to choke.
Would she know her own voice?
Would she be able to scribe it
when the words came?
Or would they all run together,
indistinguishable?
Inextinguishable, she hoped,
if there were such a word.
Would she invent words
in a tongue no one understood?
Or would they be plain enough,
plain enough, and yet
with enough complexity?
She wished for all these things,
and held in her hand
a small, polished stone.
''Begin to observe the small things,''
a small voice said.
''If you cannot see it,
you cannot depict it.''

So she turned the small stone
around and around,
feeling its evenly rough surface
that pleased her fingertips so.
Around and around,
she turned it, finding it just so wide
between her thumb and long finger.
Getting to know the stone,
she would first start to know the world.  
Beginnings were just that small.

JAL, 3 - 9 - 2003

© Joan Ann Lansberry
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