Today the word “rock” kept coming to mind, over and over. This is the resulting poem in order to quieten the voice.


By Degrees

Consider a rock,
a small one,
not much weight,
pocketed into pants
along for a forest walk.

The pants do not choose the rocks,
powerless against the hand
which picks and deposits.

Enough rocks,
the pants begin to slip, slide,
the weight pulling,
the hips no longer holding,
the beauty of the forest
lost as hands pull and tug,
keeping everything
from falling.

We gather as we go…

a word, a habit,
a slight irritation,
slip them into the space
between us.

They do not know
of our collection.

We do the choosing,
keep walking beside them,
pulled down
by what we carry
until even love
feels like effort.

Somewhere along the walk
we forgot
we could have set them down,
left them there
in the leaves,
and simply walked
together.




Poetry by Melinda K Zarate The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 13 times
Written on 2026-04-06 at 23:16

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Sameen The PoetBay support member heart!
I think this is amazing. The main motif is amazing. The imagery vivid. One of your best yet.
2026-04-07


Albert Vynckier The PoetBay support member heart!
St-Pieter was a Rock Star !
2026-04-07