Devils Lake and Contradiction
by Tom Garcia
Its time to punch-in and go to work:
if sweat is our ethos today, then contemplation is not
far behind. Our vehicle is left on the lawn, like a discarded
t-shirt in 98 degrees, and our trek begins at the foot of a sleeping giant.
Lead man sets the pace while wayfarers fall in line.
Toil is a nonword on this journey, but beauty is spoken in fluid motions,
and strength declared in confident stares. Awareness is a rhythm on the path
we follow; salty boots are pounded, packs are settling then forgotten,
imagination released in steady strides. Marching past fields of talus, a door
is opened in the mind of a traveler [and a memory is plucked from the river]….
dimensions fall away in afternoon breeze,
while I pierce the sky like the raven. I am
alone in my thoughts, above the lake, and
the sun smiles within and from with out.
I face the massive crag and touch the weathered
heart of the creator, my thoughts genuflecting
over endless shoals of time—and the moment
lingers on, in my mind's eye.
…I return to our group as we reach the ancient shoulders of the giant,
admiring the earth below. That from which we came is no longer, first
being washed in cool serenity, then etched into stone- eternity.
Climbing again we ascend the crown of mankind, in our wake a tendril of
smoke. Along the path we are offset and broken; but from above we join,
and form the serpent.
© 2001 by Tom Garcia. All rights reserved.