Here I Stand

I have stopped and stood in places

where a hundred and fifty years ago

or so, wagon trains crossed America

on the Oregon Trail.

Many did not make it. For some,

due to the obstacles and perils

which faced them, the venture

was tantamount to pure suicide.

Yet, they kept on coming.

Fortunate am I to have been born

at a time where highways and

automobiles could carry me across

foreboding lands in relative safety.

Here I stand on high ground scanning

the vast Utah wasteland. Danger is

still out there—venomous scorpions

and snakes, scorching and dehydrating

high desert heat. Save my car and the

Interstate to protect me, there is

little or no relief to be found. No

cities and towns, only ancient mesas

and mounds, pocked land formation

dotted with sage brush, pinyon and

scrub pine. Stark desolation, 360

degrees as far as the eye can see.

Seems I could nearly touch the fluffy

cotton candy clouds floating by. The

pending threat of danger and death

can be a wondrously invigorating thing.

                             -30-

Chris Hanch 8-13-2023