Erosion Theory by Sara Dobbie

We walk to the riverbank and we sit,  

and we stare. 

Sunlight filters through passing clouds,  

warming our necks  

and the surface of the water. 

Under the shallow waves 

thousands of pebbles rest

in shades of earth;  

muddy browns, steel grays 

and deep reds.  

We are silent, brooding,  

both close and closed, 

and the pebbles glisten  

like fused jewels.  

We crouch and dip fingers,  

disturbing the serenity  

to touch the stones,  

and we wonder if time, 

like flowing water,  

will smooth our jagged edges. 

We want to know 

how we can learn 

to adopt a great stillness,  

so that hours and days 

will wash over us 

to sand down our sharp words.  

Stabbing glances could become soft,  

no longer cutting and tearing. 

Loaded conversations  

like showers of arrows,  

could fall gently as rain,  

no longer pointed and scarring.  

We are waiting  

for weeks and months 

to polish us until we shine,  

until countless accusations and assumptions  

bleed out to cover us

 in our truest colors.  

We are hoping the pebbles  

are telling us the truth,  

that we are shifting 

and melding 

into cohesion.  

We don’t yet understand  

that it will take years,  

it will take decades,  

for us to lay down as supplicants  

to a nature greater than our own. 

---

Sara Dobbie is a writer from Southern Ontario, Canada. Her work can be found in Trampset, Elllipsis Zine, The Lumiere Review, Menacing Hedge, Emerge Literary Journal, and elsewhere. Follow her on Twitter at @sbdobbie, and on Instagram at @sbdobwrites.