October 08, 2011

St Non's Rock


This is a rock. It is a rock found on the path to the ancient well of St Non near St David’s, Wales. One side of the rock is one and one half inches long and flat. It is a hard piece of stone genus unknown.

The rock is three-quarters of an inch thick. Looking end to end, it is a rectangle with one of its points chipped away. From above, the rock appears to have a finger-shaped edge as if some pregnant future saint laid her hand there as she labored to give birth to another future saint.


Not counting a small notch-like overhang the rock has six sides including ends. The rock will stand on one side if you like but it cannot on the other side. There is a bit of yellow lichen on this rock. It is blackened in places, perhaps by the petrified blood of someone ancient, someone nearly beatified. There is a rust mark on the rock which is the color of red clay the sort of clay you’d imagine the feet of a clay man were made.


There are many planes on this rock and to count them will involve an eternity and who other than perhaps this rock, or perhaps the dead or ascended or the Gods themselves, has an eternity?


One particular side is flat and one half an inch wide but curved on its edge and with strike marks or perhaps wear from the blade of a stone saw; the tool perhaps of a humble and devout Mason who kept the Sabbath and provided for his family and when he grew older he formed a guild and from this one old mason sprung every temple, every old stone chapel, every man-made salvation.


There is white on the rock, a fading design, once decorated ornately with all the signs and symbols of a mysterious ancient religion, now lost to this world. Lost only because it chooses to be so for what is a religion without the faithful? It is nothing. Just as this mysterious rock is nothing more than a rock. It is no longer part of an ancient cathedral that stood as a place where voices together could rise up in worship and in awe.


The rock is no longer a part of the arched entryway to a magical place. But be still and do not grieve for like DNA this rock contains everything needed to recreate faith. This rock is a blueprint. This rock is a key. It unlocks the mystery. This rock makes solid beauty. It is the structure of now encasing ancient wisdom and foretelling of sacred tomorrow.


All of this is held in the hands when holding this rock.

1 comment:

e.gajd said...

Beautiful writing. It is evocative and engaged me with life.

I was strongly reminded of Szymborska.

Beautiful.