The Conundrum of Carin’ From the Cairn

Here on this side of the craggy wall
my voice can barely raise a hum,
the music within me stillborn,
as I try, but any new words won’t come.
Yet still I sense your presence
on the other side of these stones,
idly waiting to hear a new song.
I can feel you in my bones.
I can’t dredge up a care if you’re there
just to hear what I have to say,
or waiting to catch if thoughts of you
I’ve woven in what I might spin today.
So it’s farewell to you and the words
you loved, hated, and even cried to.
My heart, my art, my gifts to you
can’t escape this cairn if they tried to.
Perhaps one day another might unearth
what’s buried ‘neath this rocky rubble,
a jawbone perhaps, which spoke once of love, hope
and grief before they all were too much trouble.

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2 thoughts on “The Conundrum of Carin’ From the Cairn

  1. I put a little bit of Oregon into the cairn at The Wild Center in Tupper Lake, and a little bit of New York into a cairn here in Oregon. Cairns contain rocks and more, rough and smooth, sharp and mellow. Be kind to your cairn. And be well.

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