Skipping Stones

Skipping Stones 

She skipped stones

across the sun-stared river

and each stone was a prayer

for the stream and the sun

and the sand,

warm under bare feet.

She sent out stones like

letters in a bottle

to some unseen being

in whom she puts all her trust

and love.

She grew, and clouds came

sticks and jagged rocks clogged the stream.

Her tears made ripples on the surface

Murky water.

She returns, or perhaps

never left

but all the same she picks up a stone

feeling its weight

the cold against her palm

and tosses it 

half heartedly 

into the water

Splash. Another and another

until her stones are shouts, begging

answer, please, I can’t-

I’m no small child skipping stars

I need more than a dead stream

and sinking stones

I need, I need- You. Please.

This stones sinks

quiet as her whispered prayer

slips out to the sea, slips into the sky.

Her fingers, red and white

blotchy with cold

scrabble in the sand

find another stone, the last

and desperately she sinks to her knees

flicks her wrist. Skip

ripple

skip

And then the stone

Returned

warm, sitting in her palm

blazing with a word.