Chinle

They say you can have a good one

but also say some have a bad one.

 

A good one is whole, in the center,

balanced like the sandstone head,

to an unbelievable giant.

 

A good one is balanced like the

black and the white

while it’s splitting it’s time up

between day and the night.

 

A good one whistles and sings in the canyon

feels the great joy in an empty abandon.

 

A bad one knows how the world can destroy

can break, steal, or stifle

life’s precious joys.

 

Chinle, my poor chinle,

caught between the great anger

of not understanding.

 

Chinle pouring from my fingers in

all of my toils

while others spread their disease

in grand spoils.

 

She leaves me with every passing day.

So I soak up the sun rays,

in heavy, burning sprays.

 

Footsteps pittering on dead trunks

rivers crossed

as quick as the moth

and bent in regard

 

You won’t even know where to look.

Where has she gone?

But if you look deep inside,

you’ll find all along

chinle comes from within.

 

Open yourself and let her breathe

because she needs open love.

Soon enough we’ll see

she can’t be defined, yet she defined all of me.

Route 7 is published by Dixie State University

225 South University Avenue St. George, UT 84770

Copyright © 2019