For years
My head sat on this pile of stones
Piloting the heavy plotting movement
From there to here and back again.
My body was a great boulder
Detached from my thoughts
and my soul.
There are forms that reside
in granite
and in marble
Unseen
Until the sculptor's tools
Reveal the form within
Waiting there all along.
I feel crumbles
I hear cracks
In the granite
of my frozen self.
As I shed the things
that no longer serve me
I wake up
I find the precious unhatched eggs
Of the tiny birds of my dreams
Warming and growing in their nests
Who very soon will peck free from their shells
And take nourishment and fly.
They will fly above the crumbled boulder
They will rest on the shoulders
Of the great winged goddess released from the rock
And they will all fly toward God.
Image(s) from Wikimedia Commons
Painting by Polish artist Jacek Malczewski
Kimmy Sophia Brown has loved humor and music for as long as she can remember. She writes the column "From the Back Porch" as well as reviews of music in her column "MusicViews". Her goal in her music reviews is to introduce music she loves to people who may not have
heard that particular artist or CD. For information about how to 
