A poem printed on a monochrome surface. The background image depicts a narrow canyon, through which a river flows. The rocky cliffs come closer together as they rise upwards.
A PDF of the full poem can also be read on Zion National Park's website, on the Artist-in-Residence Donated Artwork page.
Jason Gray, June 2023
Poem Transcription:
Nature is making and
Unmaking itself at once
The waving sandstone, curved
Like a body Rounded belly,
Pectoral slab, the joint
Of a knee jutting out
From the rumpled sheet of water
This is a living sculpture
The Virgin River chisels
Seventy-six feet down
Every mile Splitting
Thousand foot walls of stone
For two million years
Humankind has only seen
An inch of deepening
Throughout our history
The wrens flit from wall
To wall The maidenhairs
In every crack deep green
And damp The light starts
To expand inside the slot
Canyon as the earth turns
Toward the sun Thirty degrees
Of rotation and forty-eight
Degrees of temperature
And eighty cubic feet per second
The rate of flow has grown
Against you, your thighs, your groin,
Breaththieving cold Hand hooked
Around a wooden stick
A trek into creation
Should come with difficulty
This was a trail you thought
A thing to accomplish But now
An altar A place for joining
A place for offering
You are a part of this
Process You reached
The high sunlight that falls
Straight into the canyon
The water like lit glass
As if it could have ever ended
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