She laid her hands in freezing earth Where the birch trees bowed with age The wind said nothing, but she heard The names behind the ache She wore the silence like a veil And crossed the stream alone A woman made of wind and nail And one smooth riverstone And she said, “I don't speak of what I've lost— The cold, it knows me best.” Riverstone, I carry you alone Pressed into my palm through skin and bone You never left, just turned to weight And the weight became my spine Riverstone, you're still mine. She watched the crows trace crooked lines Across a sky gone gray The snow took roots in cleft and pine And never washed away The letters burned, the ring was thrown But one thing stayed behind— A name that etched into the stone She held against her side And she said, “I’ve buried more than I can name— But I will not forget.” Riverstone, I carry you alone Pressed into my palm through skin and bone You never left, just changed your shape Now you're etched along my spine Riverstone, you're still mine. Maybe love was never kind Maybe ghosts don’t always leave But when I press you in my hand You’re quiet underneath Riverstone, I carry you alone Pressed into my chest, you're carved in bone You never left, just took your time— Now the weight became my line Riverstone, you're still mine.
