Digital art by Lew Holzman
What if I threw a rock
every time I got angry
and it melted what it
landed on, a molten
rocky tantrum hurled
into the backyard that
changes nothing into anything
that’s precious and kills
a bird or the neighbor’s cat.
Or what if it hits you
sitting in the sun
doing nothing
except being old
sedentary stone,
and needing.
Or what if the sedentary rock
is opaque or smoky quartz
or feldspar, and what if the anger
is an igneous intrusion
that hardens into dark basalt,
green beryl, watermelon tourmaline,
driven deep into fissures
in the feldspar, and what if
that heat and need transform
the rocks, fuse and bejewel them
crystallized into one stone,
a gem precious and rare
and of great price.
Smoky Quartz 