Article Contributed on: 4/27/2006 6:33:34 PM
I finally got to see the Grand Canyon. On the way to see her,
I
was so excited. I was remembering every picture I had seen of
her and
wrote this poem before I saw her in person.
Deep crevasses, ground down,
with lots of pain.
Cracked and worn, years of strife.
The burden she handles alone.
Edges worn, soft in places,
others hard, too sharp to hold.
Weather beaten, yet a beauty of her own.
Red, orange, hues of brown,
swell up to meet the sky.
Thrust themselves, hard and straight,
fill her sides to the breaking point.
Narrow, tight, held close together, as arms to a bosom.
Then rough and hewed, she's spread apart,
gouged out, opened wide, raging river,
flowing hard,tears at her lower parts.
Cutting, breaking, washing away,
enlarges her narrow gap.
Time has taken its toll.
Yet the lady holds her own, and by her name she is known.
Grand Canyon, extraordinary, amazing, magnificence,
a delight to behold.