Athabasca Falls (poem)

“That is happiness, to be dissolved into something complete and great.”–Willa Cather, My Antonia

The river runs 24/7
eternally, beside
the rocks.
It is only when
you get close
to someone
or something,
that you truly
know it, intimately.

Excited voices
as geyser mist rises
over the white
noise of waterfall.
Continuous turbulence.
The Wild pouring itself
down, like a final flood.

Timeless strata
standing by
to witness.
A prognathous rock-face,
some scared old man
his mouth open,
staring far down
to the abyss of bowl
where the water
roils and crashes
like a washer gone mad.

It is only on the other
side of river, though,
that a rainbow arcs
its soft message
upon the rocks,
as everywhere else
the falls thunder down
to your deep inner self.

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