Washed up

Tighnabruaich Pier

Stones - washed up on the beach

worn down by years of agitation

buffed and shaped and chiseled

now objects of intrigue

carriers of mystery

Where have they been?

What have they encountered?

How many storms?

How many days languishing in the sun?

What hands have picked them over and then discarded

tossed back for someone else to enjoy.

And what of them now?

Is this the end of their journey.

Or will the next tide sweep them away

to more adventures

Is their formation complete?

Or is there more to be accomplished.

Stones seem so solid, so unyielding

yet are shaped by the pounding of the seas

and the gentle lapping of the waves

Force isn't always needed

gentleness works too

The frail, elderly, confused folk I've spent time with this week

raise in me similar questions

With no one to tell their stories,

they are like the stones,

mysterious, intriguing,

washed up, but oh so fragile

To be kept and polished and treasured

For they have seen much and travelled far

and their journey is not yet ended

The tide has brought them this far,

deposited them in our care

and with gentleness

we can cherish them

until we lovingly see them

onto the next leg of their journey.

Liz Crumlish June 2010