Stones that Sing

The ancient pool lies dry in rocky ruin

with broken porches and porticoes.

Silent angels wing over her cracked cistern.

Only miracle’s memory stirs the heart

at Bethesda’s crumbling collapse.

But the rocks cry out.

The stones sing.

A melody bubbles up and over the craggy wreckage.

Joy streams from the bellies of onlookers,

the living stones,

who partake of the parched ruins–

slips of shards soothe their broken hearts.

Their music melds the two into one–the ancient stones and the living stones–

they lap the dust and shower the singing chorus of stones

with the rains of heaven.

They stand drenched in jubilation, dripping with praise.

While unsuspecting spectators thirst

for living water,

standing knee-deep in relics that

move the heart toward eternity.