blues reminding poet of her being in the grand canyon (1968)

1) blues blare in the living room

blues blare in the living room, sun seen 
through the north facing windows-
where last week's wind slam banged

without thoughts of consequence
the truth handles anything

those who witness the harm
from natural elements can learn
lenience with human beings
who often will-- without knowing

hurt and bruise those closest to them--
holy wars of consequence
still strike as harsh as a freezing winter rain

without blame, we pick up
the pieces of the puzzle-
a scene from the grand canyon:

tiny shards of red clay, and slices of a blue grey
colorado river-- melding with flecks of green,
from hearty trees spilling leaves,
along the southern rim-

2 ) sky, serving eyes of explorers

sky, serving eyes of explorers,
nourishing nature lovers,
so much so- a piano got air lifted down
to an island in the stream-

for an informal operetta,
at the apex of a stirring sunset-
the red rock's shade intensified.....
when the stars and moon rise, come into view

3) How that red rock turns again

how that red rock turns again
to the bone cold shuddering
found in those who never survived to share
their heroic adventures-

down the river, in a little boat --crashing
into some smooth grey boulders--
in the middle of a raging winter storm

pure snow white clinging
to the smaller stones on a tiny sandy beach,
where cliff dwellers
shared rituals of redemption for a nation--

4) only deciphered by a small group of human beings

only deciphered by a small group of human beings
resonating with the core of red clay courage
close to the edge of the river

closer still to the edge of hearts
meeting without analysis
simply soaring, no ceiling in the park land
of midnight blue skies, stars smiling

a new contemplative life on fire
with wonder washing the stones, bleached white
only to shine again
in the canyon land sun, after dawn

~words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '18