Rock Tumbler

jon trott 6/18/99

I wanted to roll
And gather no loss,
my stoney edges sharp
and, if broken,
Not the result of conformity
but my being
one of a kind

Sand and motion and time
Do what they will with me.

I rub against the others
They seem enemies
These friends who chafe
and, too painful,
Raze the me-sharpness
change my being
one of their kind 

Sand and motion and time
Do what they will with me.

I roll and I am rock
Both more and less me,
My stoney surface smooth
and, if polished,
Not dull but bright as stars
Together tumble
one and many kinds

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