The Pedernales Falls

By g.l. bass (the ghostbear still lives)
2/86 ed. 5/05

This Texas morning sun crests,
A peacock’s feather fan,
A fire-orange beacon,
Atop this rock rough land.
Its bloom spreads
Against a canvas
Of early morning blue hues
Across these wide
Texas skies.

Offered off t he palm
Of the hand,
The day opens
A fire eye
In deep, wide skies.
It burns through
Dew and haze,
As we are beckoned
Toward the unknown
This day.
Our venture,
To understand
Beauty hidden
In the corner’s
At the heart
Of this land.
Our courage,
To find,
The hard rock bottom
Of this love,
Between a woman,
And a man.

Stone ground
Gravel roads,
We follow the roar
Of a single thundering voice.
We listen to hear
The crash and pour
Of a river’s blood
Through hard rock veins,
We climb across
Boulder-strewn canyon floor,
In each jump and leap,
We stretch our courage
And test this love
To keep,
From rock to rock,
Hands locked,
We hold fast
Against challenges
Treacherous and steep.
Down the bluff’s backside
We slide,
A twenty foot drop
And land in knee deep
Flood piles
Of whitewater ground sand.

Over a steep mile
Of tiered falls,
The river roars,
A great white-water voice
Of constant eruptions,
Explosions of foam and spray,
Echoing back up the canyon walls.
The thundering voice calls
A beckoning
We cannot resist.
It enthralls us
And we are baptized
In its pure rainbow mist.
We have succumbed
To the magic
Of Pedernales Falls.

We stop,
Turn and follow
The thunder
Up the valley,
Back through the glare
Of high-noon sun,
Rainbow arches
Remind us
Just how far
We’ve come.

Through twisted corridors,
Cut deep over millions of years,
Smooth, bald, limestone
A mad river pours.
Down steep steps,
Over plummeting falls,
The river lands and pounds
Into deep, dark, clear ponds.
Then once again,
It rushes and roars,
Down a quarter-mile slide,
Rushing and gushing
Across the canyon floor.
Tumbling white-water rapids
Howl the thunder back again,
A maddening wrath of
Filling the air
Full of rainbows
Against a hot
Texas day.

Guarded on each side,
One hundred foot granite walls,
We strain to maintain
Our foothold and follow
The river’s twisting, churning
We pushed back against
Steep rock walls,
By the force and fear,
Of wind from the falls,
And slipping down
Into shear funnels
Through boulder strewn rapids.
We make our way
Down through the final fall,
Where the river flows
Through the Canyon’s door,
And once more
Spreads itself out
A wide, meandering course.
So clear,
So cold,
So pure,
The river
In quiet voice
A lover’s prayer
As we kneel where
It let’s us rejoice
That in its grace
We’ve been allowed
To find, feel, and be a part
Of the heart of this River’s place.

The energy
Thrills us,
Chills us,
To the heart.
We search this river
Of rough unknowns.
We find our source,
Where all
Is stripped
To hard rock stone.
Through Texas wilderness
We have ventured
As far as this river
Will allow us
To discover
Who we are.

The power
From the beauty
Cannot be set apart.
Courage is at the heart,
Where hard rock
Wilderness and river
Remain the art,
Of an adventure
To understand
Journeys of the unknown
This woman,
And this man.
Into the rock bottom soul
Where the wild Pedernales falls
And a thunderous Texas voice
Lovers in adventures
Of the heart.


Website Copyright Alannah K Ashlie 2005