Rust to Grey
I think sometimes about that deep canyon,
tucked away copper below the soft mountain,
where the water plunges 150 feet into a pool of somber granite.
Observers come to perch on nearby boulders
like spectators at a rocket launch.
Forty years ago, after torrential November rains, an earthen dam above this gorge collapsed and 39 people were washed away to their untimely death.
Most were children.
A monument nearby lists their names.
I wish them peace;
their small bodies will not know this modern world.
The shaded stones hide the sullen secret
and life, like the flow of water, regenerates.
Yet, a pungency does penetrate this place,
like a stinking corpse lily in a solarium,
like rust fading to grey.
I feel it through my lens.
Angelina's Garden 
Stunning poem. I didn’t expect the twist of death. You’ve written something that touches me even though I never knew about that incident. You’ve told an important story. Thank you.
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Thank you!
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Well done! A powerful image.
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At the start, I expected this poem to be about the natural beauty but it became so much more complex when it led to the deaths of the children. My emotions crumbled at the thought of those lost children. Beautifully written.
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Thank you Karen. This place is just beautiful, but then you know what happened there in the 70’s, so it hangs heavy on the place.
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Love this line “The shaded stones hide the sullen secret”
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