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Stone Memories

The day I left home
I took a small stone
And put it in my pocket

I did not book a ticket for it on the flight
But in its kernel, it carried the world
That I was leaving behind
Fossilized into its memory

Now it sits in a small glass jar on my desk—
A stone fish in a waterless bowl
And each time I think of home
I take it out and rub it
Its texture mirrors the hills and valleys
Of that place that nearly broke me so far away
But it is still dear home.

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