Traveler
saw the earth
from the back of
a silver eagle,
looking down
on water
dotted with
islands
blue and green,
tall mountain peaks
arising
like a seer's
most majestic dream.
From above,
she could see
almost as
far as God,
puffy perfect clouds
in an infinity of sky,
a limitless horizon
utterly unflawed,
for man to
set his
fondest aspirations by.
She flew so far
tall coastal mountains
changed to
desert hills,
brown and rounded,
dots of
tumbleweed and sage,
tall sandstone cliffs
lining the arroyo
which have
stood sentinel
for an age,
since a time,
she had
been told,
when this valley
was once
an ancient riverbed,
rushing waters
roaring through here
in bygone days of old.
Traveler,
suspended
between the earth and sky,
protective
celestial sphere above,
patient, steadfast, enduring
earth below,
knows herself a
citizen who can
choose to
walk or fly,
denizen of
no place/every place
she has
ever/never
been,
as well as
of the
spirit world,
all that remains
unseen.
In the desert,
she sought the memory
of the young girl
she once had
been
in this
now so strangely
unfamiliar land
she was
nowhere to
be seen.
That girl
now lives
a world away,
and free,
within the
siren call
of the wild and
western sea.
When she
returned to earth,
long would she
remember
the sight of earth
from sky,
distant and flawless
as an
untouched dream,
as if
nothing bad
could mar
a vision
of perfection
so beautiful
that so far
only God
has seen.
