It is not uncommon for survivors of abuse to favor the peripatetic.
Do they find peace in roaming the world?
Are they freed physically from the weight and entanglement of site-specific memory?
I am fascinated by stones, their geologic nightmares and dreams.
I imagine streams of stones, also survivors, flushed from melting glaciers.
Where are they now, those souls, those stones?
Erratic behaviors.
Clocha an fhile
poet's stones
Damaged souls seek each other,
build refuges
in stony rooks and nooks.
Their rock-worn poems?
In runes.
