The Road to Shiprock

I. Here is no water but only rock

We are traveling the American
Southwest, discovering a land of reds
and browns and rocks and utter dryness. The
rental car radio is on, and for

some reason the song "West End Girls" plays
over and over again. The beat of
the song drifts through my mind, connecting it
with the landscape, as we drive the road

to Shiprock and Four Corners and Valley
of the Gods. The sheer vastness of the land
astounds me over and over, makes me
feel lonely, much like the mood of the song.

I'm feeling like an alien in this
environment, lack of green and water.
It's not Ohio. Shiprock stands under
storm clouds, we take a picture and move on.

II. Looking into the heart of light, the silence

What I read about Shiprock was that it
looks like a clipper ship, and was a sign
to migrating pioneers they were on track.
I did not read about the Navajo

mythology, and probably did not
even realize we were on their land.
Just now learned the legends and stories, the
spiritual and historical meaning

this place has for the people. Creation
rests on its peaks, closed now to climbers
"absolute, final, unconditional"
according to Navajo law. The owl

and the eagle are part of the myth, and
the story of women and children left
to die when lightning struck and sheered the cliff.
This is a place where evil is lurking.

III. What are the roots that clutch, the branches grow

"Too many shadows whispering voices"
Back in the day I did not hear them at
all. My world was much smaller, sheltered, bound.
I go back to the road to Shiprock when

I hear the Pet Shop Boys sing, there again
feeling lost and disconnected to the
land and the music as well. The hip hop
soundtrack was "The Message" things were changing.

I was so unaware. My roots elsewhere,
my branches clipped. Did I have a "heart
of glass or a heart of stone"? I don't know.
Now I can see at age thirty I was

ignorant of the questions being asked
"If when why what how much have you got?"
I was close to the edge and never knew
how it was or what it could mean to fall.

IV. The faint moonlight, the grass is singing

What is the use of dynamiting the
past, looking at all the things I did not
know? Why do I find myself here on the
road to Shiprock, opening awareness?

It was one line in a poem, and led to one
song from that year that led to creation
stories and epic poetry and the
changing music scene. I follow these threads

because I have to, it's what I do, it's
how I live life now. I missed so much back
then, but over time I could read the signs,
know if I was on track even with the

rock and no water and sandy road.
Grounded more firmly, wisdom comes with age.
These fragments I have shored against my ruin.
Lost and then found,
                                 on the Road to Shiprock.

How this poem came about...

On Thursday I read a poem by Layli Long Soldier that contained the fragment "road to Shiprock." It made me think about our trip out west, and I wrote what would be a part of what ended up in section I.

I became a bit obsessed with the idea, so I pulled out my five packs of pictures from our Southwest trip of April 1986. I retraced our steps, figured out exactly what the trip itinerary was. I was not journaling then, so don't have any actual records beyond my photos and memory.  I do know that the only thing I knew about Shiprock was how it was named for a white man's creation (the clipper ship), and that it was a beacon to white settlers.  Nothing about indigenous people.

Researching Shiprock, and learned the many versions of the Navajo creation story, the legends that surround the rock, the people who tried to scale the cliffs, some to die. This monument is found in the Navajo Nation and they control it. The quote about the law against climbing is directly from them.

I also researched the lyrics of "West End Girls," learning it isn't about prostitution as so many thought, but rather the struggles of inner city life and issues related. The beat is directly from Grandmaster Flash's "The Message,"  which is fitting since his song is about the same things. (I give a nod to Grandmaster with the words "close to the edge".)  It was also inspired by T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland," and even refers to a historical event from World War I at the end.

Once all the notes were made, I knew I needed a form. I felt I could just end up rambling into eternity if I didn't find the right form.  Leave it to Rafael Campo to provide it. On Saturday I came upon his poem "Quatrains for a Shrinking World," which contains several sections of 10 syllable lines in a 4 X 4 format.  Perfect.

I also checked out the Eliot poem, and pulled specific lines from it for the section titles.  When reading the poem, the quotes in italics are from Eliot. The "quoted" text is from "West End Girls."
I had three Eliot lines pulled for a three section poem.  As I got to writing, I realized I needed a fourth section, as I hadn't quite come to a conclusion -- in fact, I still don't think I fully knew what I was even writing about. I went back to "The Wasteland" and found a couple of lines I liked, and ended up deleting one of the original lines I had, the opener, "April is the cruellest month."

It is true the fragments came together as I weaved my way to finding some kind of personal meaning here. I think coming upon photos of myself at 30 really had an impact. More than half my lifetime ago. How different I was.

I think of travels through my life, and I know they are connected to specific times of my life. What enriched my experience here was learning all the poetic and literary and musical connections that were lurking beneath the surface of that day in April 1986 when we drove the road to Shiprock. I'm glad I know and see those connections now. It has been a gift I gave myself.

Read the poem again.  I'd love your feedback.