The Stone That Forgives

The Stone That Forgives

I dreamed beneath the skirts of my mountain,
while the tips of my fingers
were touching the sea,
and my gaze, filled with foreboding,
was rising toward the sky.

The evening stars followed after me,
and some beloved sound
stirred me from sleep.

I know—
all the sandy shores are calling me,
while already my waking life
has fallen asleep in the grass.

These are not footprints,
nor has any premonition
slipped beneath my fingers.

What calls me
is also what awakens me.

My fields are white
and emerald,
like the colors of a wondrous stone.

There is only one stone
that forgives,
one threshold
from which we came to be.

My fields are white,
and emerald.

Within them, the stone keeps silent.
Within them, the threshold awaits us.