The Unknown River

I go to a secret place, alonem amd sit on a ledge above the canyon labrynth choked with brush. The numerous finger canyons remain unknown to most. In the summer, the heat soars into the triple digits. Winter is the best time venture in this area, because the Mojave Rattlers hibernate. It is rich with human prehistory. I listen for those that once lived here, and died here. I feel the warmth of the canyon. It is incredible. It starts to get late in the evening, the sun fades. The skeletal mysteries of the night begin to creep. I listen carefully for the noise of the unknown river, it is flowing tonight, I should maybe go to it.


As I am traversing up a windy canyon, I can see all the footprints of the little creatures that dwell in that canyon. I see the clouds and the sun, and feel Earth’s awesome beauty. If I could find a way to dwell in this place forever, I would.

In a dream, it came and spoke to me. Now when I’m awake, I cannot ever put the beauty down. It is in me, and I see the mystery in every sunset.

It is what happened long ago. The thunderclouds have been coming to this land long before the Mormons, and before the Mexicans. The Southern Paiute have always had their life ways, and they moved about this ancient place. Hundreds of generations have gone before me. This land is where I was born, and it is where I will die. It is the only land that I know about. I will never forget those before me though.

I watch the big earth movers tearing the ageless soil from it’s grave, and it hurts to see them digging into it. I don’t know why it hurts so much? But this is how I feel about the Colorado River being damned up too! For some reason, I think the Colorado River really feels trapped. She needs to flow with red water again. If the national park service can find a way to do that with the dams, then that would be good.

I constantly drive around the outskirts of Saint George, to look at all the latest ?development???, it is tearing me a part. It makes me sad, There’s nothing I can do to stop it. What hurts the most though, is the fact that they have to tear up the soil; removing it from where it belongs. Up in Cedar City, It makes me angry to see all the Juniper trees they uprooted to build houses in ?new??? areas. Those houses are costly. People don’t need to pay so much to build such things. This is America, and the developer is destroying the land that is most important to me.

I’ve noticed that there isn’t many places for the deer to go in the winter now. Their winter feeding areas are being invaded with these new houses.

Southern Utah is a beautiful place, and people are going to move in and change everything. It is okay for people to come here, but it’s the destruction that bothers me. They are changing the landscape, and the desert is filling up with people, noise, big box stores, cars, and houses. Pretty soon Saint George will become a big city.

I cannot understand why I feel this way, but something is going to stop all of the development. Maybe this is my emotions communicating with me, but something is going to change the American landscape. Something is going to end the occupation that is now over five centuries old. This urgent feeling is in my gut. Something is coming, but it will show up unexpected. I will awaken one morning to the sound of this change, and by golly, I hope it will preserve my life. Because I don’t want much except to be happy, be with my family, and have the rugged landscape to live in. I wait for those lights to go out. I’m trying to break the windows of everything I know.

The land is beautiful today.


When I dissapear into the aged mountains, I don?t miss dreadful cities filled with uncordial human beings who are too busy, too rushed to know what nature sounds like. The uncanny wild is waiting for me, almost calling me by name. My companions are the faceless shadows that wander the landscape. I am mortal, but I know the personality of the wilderness, what she has not forgotten. If humans go to far, she will eventually stop them.

The people around me are so persistent, always persevering; they march forward with psychotic dreams of progress. They believe that they can conquer nature, and the Earth Mother in order to advance. They believe that somehow nature must adhere to them, and serve them. I’ve never put the wilderness above human welfare, but I am against those that exploite and would destroy beauty. Some can go into a deep canyon, and never really see anything. I sure do feel sorrow for their lack or sight. I believe people can listen to the strange things in the forest, or the mystifying roars of a river, and care for such things. Let the unknown continue it?s enigma, and secrets remain.

Yes, I prefer the dazzling vistas of cloud and rock to the monotony of everyday life. Like everyone else, I am plugged in. Like a virus, I wait.