Canyon (outro)

They'll stand at the edge of this one day and call it

beautiful they won't know it was carved by something closer to unbearable

than scenic,

closer to a wound than a view

but a canyon is still,

somehow, impossibly, something new

I'm not going to tell you the grief ends,

because it doesn't end I'm going to tell you

it becomes terrain instead

something you can stand on.

Something with its own kind of light catching at the right hour,

in the right kind of quiet night

Canyon. Canyon. Everything that carved me

is still part of the view.

Canyon. Canyon. I

didn't survive this.

I became what it moved through.

I don't need it to have been worth it to let it

be mine

some things just are what they carved,

given enough time

I'm not healed. I'm not over it.

I'm not pretending I'm fine I'm just standing in a canyon,

finally able to see

the whole line