Throwing stones at still waters,
Tumbul! Tumbul! -Cries of the drowning stones.
I ignore the cries, reveling in my throwing spree,
I love the sound as it breaks the silent stride;
And the breeze blowing sands onshore.
Throwing stones at bare lands in Mecca,
I love the sounds of devil’s cries
Because I could not hear them with my eyes,
Or see bruises blind the devil’s eyes with my ears.
Throwing stones in glass houses,
I love the sound of battering glass in my mind,
I love to watch a crystal empire fall,
And crumble to an irreplaceable phase;
I love to understand proverbs literally.
Throwing stones to death,
I love to hear the repentant cries of the adulterer-
The piercing sounds of stones meeting her head;
Children rejoicing as her heart stops to pump,
I love the tales of kids stoning a breathing heart to death,
The old nodding in approval of the stoning streak,
I love the things that happened in the past,
Or in distant lands I consider atavistic;
That way I can tell my kids not to imitate
And love without fear of shame.