Stonehenge Poem by Suzanne Hayasaki

Wind whistles around me as if from inside a seashell,
Spiraling towards a center defined by a perfect circle.
Boisterous voices bounce around and blur together
Marring the sonic harmony of this sacred place.

I ask the stones for a moment alone with them.
And as if granting a pilgrim’s wish, a storm rises.
Clouds begin to gather and darken in the west.
The whine of the wind changes key as its course shifts.

Black birds flock together and take flight in one rush.
The force of the wind picks up and thunder rumbles.
The sky, which had been clear and rainless for days,
Gives way to the insistence of a sudden summer shower.

Immediately the people around me rush for cover.
But I stand my ground as cold drops of rain beat down
And a single bolt of lightning flashes to the south
I have been granted a momentary private audience.

I listen and hear nothing, and everything, said.
I feel as ancient as the stones I see before me,
I feel as sacred as the ground I stand upon.
I am at peace, knowing that everything is flexible.

I sense that time bends like the River Thames
And likewise my life will wind along its own path.
I know I need only stay afloat on the rising tides
Of whatever Destiny has mapped out for me.