Bryce Canyon Collection (Part II)

II

I walk over rocks;

I walk through time,

through space, through beauty,

through true amazement.

My shoes grow white, and orange, and yellow;

dust coats my pants; eroded limestone.

I am part of the landscape, of the rock, of the spell of the hoodoos.

The wind blows as I traverse the ridge,

trying to conquer my harsh environment

while it threatens to conquer me.

Just pick me up and toss me off like a feather in the wind.

But I will still be with the land and it will be with me

as I fade into purple and pink and red,

the color of hoodoo in the setting sun.

You cannot separate me from this place,

for it is a part of us all.

The Legend People watch over me, serene in their eternal beauty;

inviting almost to join them as they cast their spell.

I walk through trees, a part of the rocks,

an inspiration in their survival in a land

of streams without water.

I walk through history

and the fears and happiness and awe and power

that are extracted from all who pass by.

I am a Fremont, a Paiute, a Mormon, a geologist.

I am everyone who has gone before and all who will follow me.

I was history,

I am history,

I make history

with every step I take in this awesome place

and every breath that takes in the dust of the hoodoos

and the scent of the ponderosa pine.

I walk through would-be camera snapshots

but I have left my camera;

it will not tell the story that my mind can tell

of the hoodoos’ color in the cloudy light when shadows

fell through the Amphitheater

and each minute was a different picture

and story within itself.

I walk like a cloud,

a hoodoo,

an ever-changing shape

for no emotion is ever the same, nor I’m sure is the look on my face.

I walk through people who are utterly impressed

slowly seeing the beauty which passes so fast

and can’t be described with words.

I walk in the rocks

and the dust

and the years

and I become a legend as well.