Writer's Island - Deja Vu

This past Saturday we drove to Arizona to visit a friend and see the Grand Canyon. I had not been to the Grand Canyon since 1972. Neither Don nor Krista had ever been. The road from California to Williams, AZ, following Interstate 40 was completely unchanged from the last time I had travelled that route in 1994 on a return trip from Missouri. It was a true moment of Deja Vu. But then Krista gazed out the window and said "I see green and brown all around..." and I realized that this was all NEW to her. So Kris - this poem to timeless I40 is for you.

FOR KRISTA

Green, brown, sage, yellow bursting from the ground
Flora and fauna in deceptive numbers abound
Blues and whites drift languidly above
Hills and washes folding together, a series of sheltering coves

Mountains harsh, rough and bare
Yucca stands alert
Racing roadrunner and chasing hare
Startled movement, puffs of dirt

Satellite and cell towers
Communications soar
Mountains a far off lookout bower
Of past and present blending lore.

Contrition

Motes of dust on specks of sand
joined as shoreline of land
waiting at the water’s edge of God's mercy,
our gathering place.

Alone, I am, in this gathering place.
My sin my own, an offense not to be compared to any other's.
All insult of sin so great, a rejection of God's friendship,
infinite goodness and grace.

Feeling love for Him, how could I not love myself?
Neither is possible alone.
Loving patience, forgiving and infinite -
His only demand? Embrace good, reject evil.

White room, adorned in nothingness, becomes my slate,
my learning place, of recognition.
Sins un-recounted, forgiveness a plea. Accepting God's mercy,
we unwrap His gift of our uniqueness.

Mote on dust -
Dust on sand grain -
Grain in a sea of sand grains -
Alone but known
and, heard.

INK

My ink spreads like tears
across papers rough and smooth.
My tears say good-bye.