The Quran says God made humans out of clay
and jinn out of fire
But I am sand
in the machinery of the world–
waiting for lightning
to turn me into glass.
In spite of me, perhaps to spite me
the machinery churns.
If I were glass I could earn a name, like Mirror.
I pray for lightning.
Storms hiss against my heat until I forget heat.
I pace against the steel and it loses shape.
One day down the gaps
the grains of me fall.
Before I can apologize
winds carry me far.
Reaching high
into the current,
a mountain gathers me.
The peak is still.
My grains are opaque in the sunlight.
In the moonlight they glint like metal
– no, like stars.
I stare at the refracted colors
and slowly remember: Quartz,
clear like glass, but stronger.
I send myself tumbling
down the mountain
in a blaze of recognition.
I find heat again,
the journey smooths my form.
From below bright shards
in the rock beckon me.
Finally I am solid –
body crystal.
Quartz does not toil in machinery.
I carry the mountain.
Where I belong
I do not pray to be destroyed.
