Issue 13
Rock
Sherry Asbury
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Solid Rock
Little girls are supposed to like dollies and tea sets. I liked rocks. They felt solid when you held them in your hand, unlike the raging chaos that tended your life and spun you around in hateful circles.
Grammy had a calendar in her store. Jesus stood atop the world, one foot on each side -- like bookmarks. In pretty script it read, "He is the Solid Rock", and advertised Milliccan's quarry works.
The words made me pick up every rock I could find and hold it close to my chest to see if I could feel Jesus' heart beat with mine.
Near an old break-off stump that served as my pulpit, I preached to the world, long sermons that not even Puritans had to sit through.
A warm rock I had found lay on the lower edge of the stump, my Church of the Solid Rock, where I addressed the sins of the world, like beating little girls and touching them in private places -- those people went to hell.
That rock is likely still there, waiting to warmed by the sun.
Jesus kept hiding and I never found Him.
~Sherry Asbury
Sherry is a freelance writer and publishes a desktop subscription poetry magazine called Rhymes Rhythms. Her short stories and poetry appear in many venues. Email.
© 2003 by Sherry Asbury. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2003 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.