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The Wedge 2014

In February, I had the opportunity to run "The Wedge" aka the Goodwater Rim Trail in the Little Grand Canyon, south of Price, UT. My husband, Ben, and our two kids came down and camped the night before, along with our friends Matt and Craig.


Since I was recovering from the flu and coming down with a sinus infection, the run "didn't go as planned" for me. That said, I had a wonderful time running with friends and camping with my family.

I wrote a poem while I was down there. Nothing fancy, just a few lines about the people, the desert, and the tides of life. I write poetry often and share little, primarily because poetry has a way of making others feel uncomfortable, and let's face it--I need as few social barriers as possible! But writing is meant to be read, shared, felt. I'm trying to share a little more of the type of writing I love (poems) since most of the time people only get a glimpse of my typical snarky, saucy, and witty article voice.


The Line Between

There was a twang in the fire
while you sat there, smiling.
Even under the sunrise
with colors billowing,
and the flat landing of valleys withering;
in the midst of tumble weeds, grass, electric poles
each their own shade of brown,
you sat at our campfire, smiling.

Failed cliffs tumbled down into the sand,
low below the stiff-bottomed clouds.
We were between empty cattle guards,
laughter puffing in the waves of dust
billowing behind a jeep,
then floating into the sky,
only to rain sand.
In the desert it rains sand.

We camped there; we ran there.
Juniper trees upright—
the coy blush of green bent against
decades of wind, turmoil, time.
White boards of sand etched
with empty water runnels,
drawing a line between peace and hostility.

And you would rather be wrong
than pick a side.


Comments

  1. Even though I'm not the best at understanding what is said in poetry, I love how so much is said in so little words. Great job.

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  2. Thank you for sharing that. I can't tell you how much I love that second stanza; it's like it was written for me...but that's what poetry does, right? It doesn't make me uncomfortable, but I do like to sit with it for a while so it can speak to me. Then when it speaks...

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