Transformations (Victories of the Heart)

Once in a while, during a moment of apparent moment of personal insight and enlightenment, I am compelled to write a poem. These poems seem to have a life of their own; they almost write themselves. Until the poem is finished, the emotion I am feeling or the insight I have reached, won’t subside. And when the poem is is completed, I then reach deep feelings of satisfaction–a moment of catharsis.

Five years ago, during a life changing Victories of the Heart ( retreat, I had one of those peak moment, which compelled me to write the following poem. It speaks to the part in me who decided to start a journey of healing and growth. Even though personal transformation take their toll on us, we know in our hearts and our minds that we really have no choice. Here is my “jewel” of a poem:


I am a coarse stone.
Yearning to be touched
Dreaming of being smooth
rounded and glassy.

I am a colorless piece of rubble.
Wanting to be held and caressed.
Desiring to become
a cherished part
of a beloved rock collection.

I am a sharp edged rock.
Isolated and alone.
Needing to no longer be a tool
Used to cut and divide
a person from his own heart.

Today is the day
I allow myself to toss,
turn and tumble.
To be kicked around.
Stomped into the earth.
And dug up again.

The endless cycle of seasons take its toll
Autumn’s blustery winds
Winter’s freezing blizzards
Spring’s drenching rains
And Summer’s blanching sun
transform my surface
Forever alter what I look like.

After what seems like a lifetime
I find myself resting in a dry river bed.
To eventually be carefully chosen
by a boastful youth,
Who sublimely skips me
across the river’s tranquil
but rippled surface.

Because of honest youthful enthusiasm
I am reconnected to my destiny.
Plunging back back down
into the river’s cold and dark waters,
I am carried further down-river.
Carried quickly
with a sense of urgency
Toward a tumultuous
raging white water river.

Violently crashing
into unforgiving boulders.
I begin to lose necessary parts of myself.

Pushed lower and lower
Submerged deep
at the bottom of the river,
I remain dormant
for years that stretch
toward no apparent endpoint.

With a torrential downpour
And hurricane-like winds,
I am moved from my murky
muddy and silted home,
to be wildly churned in stormy waters

With a tremendous gust of wind
and a resulting wave,
I am cast shoreward
To be perfectly placed on a path
where a wandering dreamy child
is exploring the river bank
seeking his perfect jewel of a stone.

And during this magnificent
bright summer day,
the shining rays of the afternoon sun
strike me so perfectly
that my surface explodes with
eye-catching glimmering sparkles.

Capturing the attention
Of this adventurous
and seeking child.
Who stops, notices, stares,
and picks me up.

With the excitement of a discovery,
The boy carefully examines
my glassy translucent surface,
Marvels at my rainbow colors,
Caresses my smooth contours.
And with a burst of pride
places me in his shirt pocket
to be forever close to his heart.

Ross Rosenberg

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