Title: The stones beneath your feet
by Aleks from Hertfordshire | in writing, poetry
As you stand here, I could tell you 'tourist'
That I was not always like this, a pebble
At the base of a ruined, ancient column.
I could tell you, that I have seen things
That could have destroyed your living soul.
Make you want to run, want to hide
And never leave your hiding place, away from prying eyes.
But my eyes would still see you.
My eyes see everywhere.
I am at the heart of the darkest innermost caverns
And I stand on the tallest peaks of the snow capped mountains.
With one finger I can paint the earth with dust, and with another
Reach to the sky and brush the clouds ' a peak, a cliff.
I have swum alongside Lucifer in his furious lakes of fire,
From where he has banished me.
Has pushed me from his tower boiling scarlet, up into the cold air
Where I have flown and soared with the angels on high.
I have dropped from the heavens and rolled down the steepest of slopes,
From where I have dived to meet Poseidon in his stark empire swirling blue and black.
He has carried me to the ends of his realm and down,
To the crimson fires that return me once again to be banished by Lucifer from his inferno.
I have withstood unspeakable agonies of pain,
Have been cut from myself, 'quarried'
And have been redefined by chisel and hammer.
I have been strong enough to stand among the finest structures in the world;
I am a part of the greatest civilisation in history.
I have stood the test of time, and lived to tell the tale.
Why are you not interested in my story?
For I am the very foundations of creation.
The base upon which all life has flourished.
And still I am crushed beneath your feet,
By you who cannot comprehend my journey.
By you who cannot comprehend my memories.
By you who cannot comprehend that which I have been through.
As you stand here, I could tell you 'tourist'
That I was not always like this, a pebble
At the base of a ruined, ancient column.
Yet, you take no notice, pass me by, and let me crumble,
Now a mere pebble, beneath your feet.
I was lucky enough to win a place in a gifted and talented poetry workshop. The students in attendance were tasked with writing a poem about the geological studies of Charles Darwin to be included as part of an exhibition at the university. My poem is the result of the workshop and challenges the way that people view geology as a mundane and boring thing. I discovered during the stimulus lectures at the workshop just how mindblowing the story of rock and geology can be: hence the poem.
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