View From Antelope Canyon
The land where time stands still
These red sandstone
walls, worked smooth
by the undulations
of an ancient river
and polished
by the wind, make
me feel like I’m traveling
at the speed of light. Each
line on these walls
is a year, far too many
to count, let alone
remember, but the memory
of the canyon isn’t limited
by the capacity of neurons
or the plasticity of an infallible
gray membrane.
How could something as simple
as water (which sometimes fails
to rinse shampoo from my curls)
create such magnificent
and intricately carved towers?
I feel lost and found, a paradox
my compass cannot solve,
in this maze of history, of time
passed and memories lost
amongst these giant sandstone
sculptures more beautiful
than anything man could hope
to carve, aglow with the colors
of a pristine desert sunrise.
I climb up to an archway
that looks like an eye
and watch as the sun dips
down to kiss the horizon
behind an endless range
of sleepy mountains,
making room for a blanket
of stars that sweeps
across the canyon, a lullaby
that’s been sung for thousands
of years, and will be sung
for a thousand more, a rare
connection to a history
we can’t remember but don’t
want to forget, a reminder
we weren’t the first and won’t
be the last to wander
across these timeless sands.
Beautiful