Drops of Color/ Oh, so Grand

Drops of Color
Oh, so Grand

Like a snake,
weaving itself through a 
dry, barren terrain,

its skin blue, shedding itself.
Brown…its milk—embryonic fluid.

A womb—
its cervix walls, solid layers
of rock fashioned, becoming
before a single word of testament
etched in stone.

The canyon…Grand.
Alive, its breaths beholden
to a sky, a ceiling keeping
watch both day and night.

Stars paint the rocks,
and when the sun lifts its
head, it reveals a masterpiece
changing, changing, changing.

To hold one’s gaze on this
tribunal of chapters,
the story line has no beginning nor
end.

Every second look is beyond
the first glimpse.

Its beginning—no one present
to tell.

The Canyon is a Mother
—birthing splendor.
Seekers from all over
sit at her edge,
trek down her paths,
plunge into her waters.

She turns back no one…
Some she holds allowing them
eternal rest.

Many come once,
and are never the same.

In some, she resides.
The dust from her soils
embedded in the marrow
of a being

Oh, so Grand