Adventure

My bare feet climb the prickly rope ladder,

backpack clinging to my shoulders,

heart beating fast.

Pinpricks of perspiration dot my forehead.

I reach between the rope strands

and touch rough, mottled, brown sandstone.

Don't look down!

The canyon floor, covered with scented silver,

sage brush, lies far below.

I crawl over the top.  In front,

are crumbling dusty Anasazi cliff dwellings,

which shelter secrets of the past.

A deep pit, a kiva, with faintly painted walls,

was a sacred place where elders ruled

and discussed the laws of the tribe.

I find a small translucent skull,

surrounded by turkey bones,

gray and black pottery shards

and bits of corn.  The skull,

perhaps exposed by desert scavengers,

rests in my hands:

I see a laughing, bronze skinned child,

dressed in soft skins and plaited yucca sandals,

running from her parents on the canyon floor.

My descent is perilous,

feet feel hesitantly for the next step.

At last firm ground is reached,

my journey is ended.

I look up:  the deep turquoise blue of the sky,

and the silence permeate my being.

I breathe deeply and feel content.

(c)Elizabeth Urquhart                    2005          

published in The Poet's Domain, vol 22

Live Wire Press, Charlottesville, VA