Pride Joshua M. Rayner
after an aftershock in Orvieto, Italy following the earthquake in L’Aquila
Walk across the asphalt and into
the lane, empty and winding, voiceless
in the gloaming. You
think of yourself and how
romantic it is, cobblestones
and tufa walls enjoyed unspoiled
by company or strangers.
The stones strike your heel with tones
gone sharp. They ring against your pride, the sunsmeared
walls. When, after dark, you
return across these same dense stones, soaked now
by brief rain, their song has changed. Your heel also
is absorbed. The stones now murmur, fool,
you are humbled now but you will
pass and all will pass and we
will remain with no time and with a purpose
that is fixed, and we
will not pass but will stay for endless passings.
And you will say I have felt what is solid move.