The Library of Maps, #37
THE MAP OF STONES
(for Lydia Matthews)

Stones,
Collected from all over the world
—from oceans, streams, ponds, lakes, grottoes, rivers, and fountains—
Had been brought to the Library
Shortly after it was built.

The Stone-Collectors
Had inscribed
The names of the original sites
On the stones,
But it was only
Over several hundred years
That these became visible to the eye.

Suitable Stone-Readers
Were then found
And trained
To read the names out loud every year.

At first,
They scrutinized each stone closely,
Reading out its name slowly and falteringly
—as if for the first time.
But later,
As they memorized each name,
Their voices grew confident and louder,
Until a young Stone-Reader
Would quickly learn the entire Naming by heart,
Only glancing
Cursorily, almost carelessly,
Toward the stones themselves.

At the beginning of one spring,
The Chief Librarian
(who came periodically to inspect the Stones),
After handling
With increasing agitation
First one
And then another of the myriad stones,
Cried out,
“The names have all vanished.”

At this moment,
All the Stone-Readers paused,
And when they tried to resume the Naming,
They realized
They had been struck dumb.

They sat there
Mute
In the Reading Room
With the empty Stones.

Outside the Library
Could be heard the sounds
Of avalanches
Earthquakes
Tidal waves
And torrential rain,
While
Great shafts of lightening
Destroyed the Library’s walls
And
Great gusts of wind and hail
Swept away the maps and books.

Only clusters of shattered stones,
Surrounded by wild hyacinths and sun-baked skulls,
Remained.

Time passed,
Until one winter
The Children arrived,
Sailing up the Acheron River
In their Boat of Songs
To clamber up to the snow-covered ruins
Where they played,
Renaming the stones as part of their game
—thus making it possible
For the Library to be rebuilt.

by Moira Roth
Written 6/20/03 in Siatista, Northern Greece; revised 6/22/03 Papingo, 6/29/03 Milopotomas, and 7/05/03 on plane from London to San Francisco