Rinconada Canyon

Rinconada Canyon

i walked in the shadows
of a lava canyon
until the canyon boxed me in
i met a face of rock
that gave me direction
and i climbed
up the broken crack of the face
until i reached the nose

at the forehead i leapt
and grabbed hold
of the brush on top
i walked along the edge
of the lava canyon
through the cactus
and the salt brush
and sage

i found an outcrop
of hundreds of miniature
orphaned lava rocks
spread out on the edge
of the lava canyon

i knelt down and
with my hand
i brushed away the lava rocks
exposed the sand

i made a circle
i held the sand and felt it fall
through the cracks
between my fingers

i poured water into the circle
and made mud
i set my hand in the circle
and prayed

i felt mother earth
closed my eyes
i listened to her heartbeat
in the song of nearby wrens
i wept and prayed
until the mud dried
and became sand again

i replaced the miniature orphans
sprinkled sand into my canteen
and drank

as i walked away
i saw a mesa
a table there in the desert
with a juniper beside it for company

there were hundreds
of little worms
half of them moving
slowly in the sand
half of them shriveled
and sun bleached

the canyon reminded me of life
moving miniature orphans reminded me
of a woman

praying reminded me of love
and the mesa reminded me of death

the sand reminded me of living
and the skeletons reminded me of loss


on the way home
i saw a man kick a woman at the bus stop