by Jessamyn Rains

A canyon is an ancient woman
stripped down to the bone

with undulating sand and rock,
sculpted space and stone.

Her rivers once were overflowing,
muddying the banks,

and then began a slow erosion,
softness giving way

to violence. Middle years are hardest,
nothing goes the way she thinks,

and just when resignation comes,
she feels the shift beneath:

Shaking, breaking, moving, quaking, 
Earth itself will mourn

the spirit of a broken woman 
when she is alone.

And when her former hopes and plans
give way to silent prayer,

and light fills all her emptiness,
illuminates the air,

the people come to see the meaning
of her shapes and forms:

the spirit of an ancient woman
stripped down to the bone.