The River That Mines the Silence of Stone

Image courtesy of Sarojani Rohan


After the light

beams into the inner chamber

on the shortest day,

after the souls of the dead have departed,

silence fills the hollow space

like the beat of the drum just did.

The underland will feed it

like a candle perpetually snuffed,

scent of melted wax and burnt wick

in the dark.

Above, nights pass

and days come

in the temple of time

that makes equals of us all.

The earth blooms into spring,

flowers and fruits through summer,

and releases once more into fall.

On that first winter day,

when the priestess returns

before dawn,

lint and tinder in her pouch,

but guided by memory and touch,

this is what she hears:

the silence of stone.

No words, no message,

just the time-nourished silence.

Rebirth is the gift of the deep,

to return as servant once more –

lover and light-bearer,

priestess and poet reborn.

At Newgrange August 2019

Published by

Mary Camille Thomas

Mary Camille Thomas is a native of Santa Cruz, California who considers herself lucky to have returned after living internationally and on the road. She is a librarian by profession, and her poetry has appeared in The Moving Force Journal, Porter Gulch Review, and Sisters Singing. She is currently working on a novel called What Lies Buried and a collection of poems of the spirit.

4 thoughts on “The River That Mines the Silence of Stone”

  1. What a lovely scent, “melted wax and burnt wick in the dark”. Thank you for this poignant observation of this year’s shortest day… of the longest year.
    I’m grateful that your sister Ann sent me this link and grateful I got to meet your dog Betsy in the park in Northeast Portland a few months ago.
    Kind wishes to you and your whole family,


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