Clare County Library
Clare Literature
Home | Search Library Catalogue | Foto: Clare Photo Collection | OS Maps | Search this Website | Copyright Notice


Stones Piled In Heaps

by Kate Thompson


Between the rhododendron forest and the summer snowline there are stones, piled in heaps. I went up there and passed them always to the left, as I was told.

Om mane padme hum,
I trip it lightly off my tongue
In practice for the ones at home
Who have not passed the heaps of stone
And don’t know what they mean.

Between the rhododendron forest and the summer snowline is a world that is not Third. In the spinning of its prayerwheels and the heaping of its stones there is no counting. For the years of its ancient ones and the dying of its infants there are no numbers. Winter lives, sparks in the cavernous cold.

A glimpse is all, a glance at timelessness, and I am going down again, towards the valley.

Mountain storms, thy will be done,
Om mane padme hum,
I will not tell the ones at home
That I have passed the heaps of stone
And don’t know what they mean.

I pass to the left, as I was told.
Behind me they are taking down the bridges.


________

Taken from ‘Sticks and Stones’ (1989), page 30.



Kate Thompson
 

There Is Something