I read the poem “Conversations with a stone” years ago and loved it. Filed it in my ‘ideas’ folder where it patiently awaited nil now. A short trip to the desert, to Ramon crater in the south of Israel, a place renown for its colorful rocks, and yet all see are faces. Human forms carved in stone by heat, wind and water. Art created by nature.
“I knock at the stone’s front door.
It’s only me, let me come in.
I want to enter your insides,
have a look round,
breathe my fill of you.”
“Go away, ” says the stone.
“I’m shut tight.
Even if you break me to pieces,
we’ll all still be closed.
You can grind us to sand,
we still won’t let you in.”
“I knock at the stone’s front door.
“It’s only me, let me come in.”
“I don’t have a door, ” says the stone.”
Unlike the conversation in the poem , for a short while, thru the camera, I find the door.
