Triptych

(after O’Keeffe’s Red Hills and Bones)

 

I.          In the beginning

were grand projects—

light, sky, water, earth.

In groundbreaking moments

after oceans parted and

mountains peaked, then

emerged another operation.

The dust settled,

was shaped, was sculpted,

so much dirt and breath,

a ghostly gasp, then the urge

to ascend jagged peaks,

beckon stars come closer,

settle within easy reach.

II.        One man, one woman,

halfway to sublime,

could not resist 

savoring sweet nectar,

and the fall blooms,

flowers into grace

for want of a savior.

Erosion cut to the bone.

Lines weathered deep,

until piles of sediment,

layers of canyon,

buried the bones,

pressed bone to stone,

made dry souls concrete.

 

III.       Rare rain falls, washes the draws,

exposes roots and tender veins.

This spit makes mud,

creates rivers deep in the gorge.

Red clay cakes on the table below,

awaits the hand to unseal

sealed lids and eyes.

Bones in the valley

rattle like castanets,

sing like reeds

as the spirit fans

the fire within,

rumble low and humble

as flesh fleshes anew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First published in Faraway Nearby, edited by Lon Chaffin.