2,170 miles away exists a place.
It’s 76,519 acres—millions of square feet long
and wide. An anomaly really, how beauty exists
in such measurements, in my mind. A stretch of
red fins tower into a cobalt sky, or does the sky
dive down to meet it? Heaven meets earth meets
this place where I cried as we drove, you and me,
learning that life should be this:
becoming humbled by rocks.
This place has a mailbox that doesn’t
deliver what I can’t put to poetry: I miss you. And
that place we placed our tent stood by the river
where we washed our faces and dishes before we
continued to climb on thick slabs of rock into the sunrise.
We’ll go back is what we promised, to the place
with fins and arches and millions of words
I don’t understand. And with cold beer and thick socks
we’ll go back to everything that happened and didn’t,
every blink and breath.
Posted on November 11, 2011, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.
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