In the Valley of the Bones
The town has left before we arrived.
All that was left, like empty pillow cases,
Was the hole where once stood concrete veils
That rose to the sky. Now, all that is left
Is the sadness of love forgone. I bend
At the hip and pick a bit of earth and it
Hour glasses through my palm, like a crumpling
Gothic Cathedral. My mind turns into a stone
Gargoyle weeping at the desert. Once this land
Was a grand ocean, then a forest, then mountain,
Then a valley, then a city on a hill. Now, the desert
Claims it. The granite stone under my feet
Encase the history and we have forgotten to tell
The tale. We climb back down, and then continue
To live our soon forgotten narrative, waiting for the voice
Of the prophet to speak the words to our bones.
Speak God, speak. We await your Word.