poem submitted to "1493" poetry contest, Brian Strand, sponsor, August 1, 2026
Beneath me, the Grand Canyon unfurls like an ancient manuscript, one inked in ochre and rose. Sunlight drifts across it, the strata revealing what the earth remembers Wind rises from the chasm, carrying the cool scent of juniper and the far-off murmur of the river. Light drifts across the strata, revealing what the earth remembers long after we have forgotten. It brushes my skin with a tenderness I didn’t expect from a place carved by violence and patience in equal measure. The walls descend in vast terraces, each layer a quiet confession of oceans vanished, mountains lifted, worlds undone. I feel time loosen around me~ not as a threat, but as an invitation to stand still enough to hear the planet breathe. Far below, the Colorado glints like a blade softened by use, cutting and smoothing, cutting and smoothing, its persistence a kind of prayer. I am transfixed realizing that endurance can be a form of grace. Beauty is not always gentle~ sometimes it is the echo of everything that has broken and yet remains, vast, open, and astonishingly alive.
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