The Canyon

The canyon stretches for miles

A savage stab wound in the earth

Its path is punctuated with decorations

Piles of dry bones and stacks of skulls

Death marks out its domain

 

Once in its deep trench

There is no climbing out

It is a cesspit that sucks away all life

The echoing silence the warning siren

That living things should not come here

 

A lone traveller walks through

Well aware of the dangers

He carries nothing but a shovel

The canyon bares its jaws wide at this morsel

But there is no fear in his step

 

He begins to dig with his shovel

Hammering the ground with all his might

The sound echoing in the vastness

Vultures descend as if to mock

But he will not give up

 

The traveller hits the deep springs below

And water begins to flow

As they do the sky darkens above

Storm clouds summoned in by his hard work

This canyon is about to change forever

 

The water flows and flows

Washing away the old skeletons

Cleansing it from its torrid past

So that this canyon, once of dust and decay,

Now erupts into a carpet of green

 

Psalm 84:5-6 – “Blessed are those whose strength is in you, whose heart is set on pilgrimage. As they pass through the Valley of Baka, they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools.”