- Grand Gulch, oh canyon of black stained cliffs,
- Canyon of slick rock and disappearing stream,
- What mysteries are hidden in your alcoves,
- Or still lay buried in your sands?
- Do your panels of hand prints tell of wars here?
- Did the women here dance to Kokopelli's tunes?
- I raise my eyes to dwellings high upon your walls.
- Who lived there perched like a bird?
- Were you their source of nourishment?
- Did you serve them well?
- As I walk through your corridors,
- These questions come to mind.
- I long to know your tales.
- As the sun begins to sink below the rising walls,
- And the shadows creep across the valley floor,
- The winds increase and seem to carry with them
- The essence of your soul.
- A freedom we modern travelers yearn for but scarce can duplicate.
- And while the dancing firelight throws shadows up into the sky,
- I scan the darkness overhead to spot a satellite.
- Your people knew not of such inventions and I know not of yours,
- But to walk here in your paradise somehow restores peace,
- Not only to my mind, but also to my soul.
By Julia Johnson, Spring 1989
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- URL of this page: http://bcn.boulder.co.us/environment/cacv/cacvtrib.htm
- Revised '9-Jun-2001,11:10:14'
- Copyright ©1996, 1999 SCCS.