melancholy

Stone God, I’m Trying to Forgive You

Artwork by Pavlina Bargili

When all else fails, I’ve learned to function as
a stone.
On the dry desert tracks where the most unbroken rocks can be found, I am yet
Whole, unbothered. Next to myself, next to nothing.
When nothing has yet been nursed,
Like the pebbles stuck in tumbleweed are we still to you stone gods, our
shape is just unrecognizable.
Whole, unbothered.
But when you decide to play
your games,
I stay, still, silent, on some dry desert flat. Next to myself, next to nothing.
Whole, unbothered.

Stones come from the earth just as I
shall return to
It,
And maybe one day you
and I
will be the same melted rock again.
Whole, unbothered.

Have you ever tried bothering a stone?
Or a pebble,
Perhaps or not because things like
These aren’t talked about
on the dry desert flat. If you
Tickle a rock it is no longer
Next to itself, next to nothing,
Because now it is next to you and
If it is lucky, you are made of the same earth.

When we function as stones, do they
Take our place away from the dry desert flats?
Is there a rock beneath my bed sheets
Now, or a
Stone at my desk
Now, or a
Pebble tiptoed on the drain of my shower
Bound to be broken because
I have taken their places
Where I am
next to myself, next to nothing.

Margherita Bassi studied creative writing, history, and French at Boston College. She is an aspiring fiction novelist but is also passionate about poetry. Her favorite book at the moment (it changes on a monthly basis) is Le Cose che nessuno sa by Allesandre D’Avenia. Margherita is a big fan of Shakespeare jokes, coffee with lots of cream and sugar, horses, and working on a big desk next to clean windows with lots of sunlight.

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