We
come to a canyoned place
with
the odd name of Box,
once
a cave, perhaps, until geology
crushed
its roof and opened its water
to
course for eternity. Broken souls
stumbling
in wilderness, walking
into
a terrible layered beauty
of
sharp colors, jagged piercing
ridges
and sides, center points
tearing
at our self-sown shrouds.
We
walk: alcoholic, addict, convict,
poet,
inhaling dust of generations,
the
stream beside us the eyes of God
watering
the sorrow of the earth.
Photograph by L.L.
Barkat.
4 comments:
L.L.'s photo is so evocative. I can feel and see why it moved you to write your poem. Your line "the stream beside us the eyes of God" is lovely.
I too find that line piercing and lovely.
Thank you L.L. and Glynn -- so beautiful and heartfelt.
terrible
layered
beauty
Been there. When I was young, I didn't notice the beauty.
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