Red Stone

Note- some poems are prompted by a word or a phrase, perhaps an experience. This was suggested by an impossibly beautiful tree deep at the head of the unfortunately named “Negro Bill Canyon” off of the Colorado Rive near Moab Utah.  

red stone

by the time we reach the top of the canyon

we’ve walked through most of our words

this trail of sand and stone, the solitary blooms

of tattered desert flowers. this deep in the canyon

all light is reflected, shattered light,

passed from rim to rim until it settles like mist

luminous dust, a dry and brilliant rain.

we never know what we’ll find in the deepest canyons

of our lives like these incandescent leaves,

such improbable green, or this stone, the rich red

of freshly oxygenated blood, the red of iron and of time,

of pressure and erosion, the true red of benediction, the hard,

hard red of redemption.


6 thoughts on “Red Stone

  1. I like so much here – walking through most of our words conveys the desert sense of stripping bare, and the dry rain, and then leading us to the images of the improbably green leaves and that hard red stone – makes me miss the desert!

    • Thanks, the tree sits at the very back of the canyon, about an hour and half hike up from the colorado river. beyond it, the canyon walls rise abruptly, a small spring seeping from a crack in the wall, probably why a tree can take root, survive in a hostile place. we all need our small springs to survive I think…

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