It isn't so much
broken, as muscle is
unlike bone and
does not fracture cleanly.
It will not heal completely,
when damaged, no matter
how well it is set.
Bone calcifies to mend itself,
and adds new minerals
and elements to make it stronger yet.
Muscle, however, turns to weaker ends
that lack its own elasticity.
It mends itself with collagen,
and becomes more prone to injury.

You can never really
walk with purpose,
because you are
always falling even
when you watch your step.

Look at it, hanging there
several inches in the air
for moments before you
give yourself to gravity,
and hope to land gracefully.

I saw God in those blood red rocks
and in the wide-open western sky
so beautifully blue that it hurt.

I saw Him in the pale light of the desert dawn
as I turned east to greet the quickening sky,
too awestruck to speak
too small,
too meek to whisper, even in prayer.
I could hide in a single blood-red grain of sand
with room to spare.

The morning air was crisp.
like a glass of ice water perspiring in the late summer heat,
the crunch of sparkling,
sunlit snow beneath my worn boots as I walk home swooning
to the unabashed **** of Nina Simone.
Like all the places I thought
I'd caught a glimpse of God before.

My mind fumbled with similes
in an attempt to fathom the epic beauty
of those crimson and unapologetic rocks
as my hands fumbled with a camera
in an attempt to capture each moment of stolen breath.

I sighed,
suddenly unsure,
feeling even smaller than before.

Maybe the rocks, the water, the snow, the music
were just what they were.

Maybe God wasn't there
peeking through the fingers of the painted dawn,
or hiding in the moments
I thought I'd seen Him before.

Maybe, I just felt small
because I was at the foot of a mountain.
Maybe, I just felt small
because I was.