Unsightly Stone

Beauty beneath judgment

There was a stone that I once saw,
dry,
hardened,
firm.
It must be heavy.
So unsightly, I thought.
But when I picked it up,
how light it was
and soft,
not a stone at all.
With my hands,
I broke it apart,
revealing the oh-so-succulent seeds
of a pomegranate.
Had I listened to the thoughts
by which I had first judged,
never would I have known
such a taste.

A poem by Pemba Umoja