Monday, December 30, 2013

My Zion: A poem

The reasons are many and personal, but Zion National Park is my favorite of the many parks I have visited. Its beauty is well known and though I have walked many of its trails, there seems to always be something new to discover. It is there that I find a particular peace even when my heart races while gazing upon the ancient and ever-changing canyon walls.

I shall never tire of touching, smelling and taking in this place. Even when rubbing shoulders with other hikers while riding the shuttle up canyon, I feel that particular sense of peace and, forgive me, connection with the canyon.

Zion has inspired artists and writers for years in an attempt to convey the specialness of this place. In that spirit, I will share one or more of a handful of poems that I’ve composed about Zion and what it means to me. If you've visited the park and hiked it trails, you'll recognize the references. If not, then get yourself there ASAP and report back.

As with most of my poetry, it isn’t very good, so please forgive my indulgence. If nothing else, it was written in earnest. And it rhymes.

My Zion
Stains across an aerie altar, white streaked red
suspended above my reach, but not my sight.

Perhaps ancient titans sacrificed, honored, bled
now revealed in golden strains of morning light.

My Zion, my refuge
from all it is not.

Oh Zion, my haven
where solace was sought.

Did angels take wing from that lofty perch?
Does the stone truly weep for ages past?

When bygone men for food here did search
in the giant’s throne shadow cast.

This Zion, my friend
please show me how

Oh Zion, my Zion
if only time would allow.

Steps upon crimson sand and stone
as wind, water, eons carve and hew,

I realize my soul was still unknown.
for what was old is now new.

~Terry Tyson