Delving deep
into iron-red rock,
the swell of San Rafael,
Bodies become
canyon,
pebbles,
sand,
dust.
Whispers:
primordial language
of water.
Juniper and sage
spice thin air.
Scent and sound
discordant
coexistence
with a harsh,
gracefully broken land.
Persistent sunlight
grazes a shear
rock face,
ghosts twist
between crevices
and emerge
as ancient art
carved
onto ancient walls.
We open our palms,
touch cool red rock,
delicate skin
exposed and painted
with muddy earth,
blending with sandstone,
and it is sudden,
the understanding of
vulnerability.
Comments 1
Very nice piece here, Rikki Jean. You explore a sublime landscape, touching on remnants of its ancient past, and end with an emotional link that is almost tangible.
A couple of suggestions: I think the feel and form of the stanzas could be improved if you removed much (or all) of the punctuation, particularly commas and periods. There isn’t consistency with punctuation within the poem anyway, and the parts without work better for me. Additionally, consider removing the “we” in that second to last stanza (so it would read: “Open palms/touch cool red rock”). The blatant introduction of an active participant so late in the poem pulled me from the stanza. Subtlety would keep the mystic feel more intact.
Posted 02 Jul 2010 at 7:20 am ¶Post a Comment