Quartz Point

This is
a quartz point
stolen from where
it grew. Now it rests on
a folding table
called “altar”
in the home of a
colonizer who keeps it
lit with a full spectrum light
all hours of the day,
all the days of the year,

and if you listen you can hear
a sharp growl like that of a black dog
from the corner of the room
where it languishes.

Nothing should surprise you
about this as it is not
unusual for a colonizer
to exercise what they call
“stewardship”
in whatever way they deem best,
regardless of listening to
the earth itself which speaks
in tongues they can’t fathom
even exist.

The language
of a stolen stone comes less
from the tongue
than from the lung and throat,
for instance, and when
a colonizer hears it

they assume it is their own
voice within, depression
they call it, the black dog
they call it; and it will persist
as long as they hold on to
what they’ve stolen.

Is it not lovely, they say,
touching the quartz point
under the full-spectrum light
they bought for the purpose.
It glows under this, they say, as it would
under the sun. Exactly so, in fact,

and they look around for the source
that will explain
why their black dog is growling
like a stab within.