Surprise Arch: A Poem

I'm on the quest to write at least one half-decent poem in my life. Because of my perfectionism, I avoided taking a creative writing class through all six years of earning my degrees in literature. I just knew I could never write the way the poets I love did. But I figure I'll never learn if I never try, so here goes.

This one I hammered out today when I felt very comfortable. I started exploring that feeling, the sensations, the places it reminds me of, and I came up with this poem about Surprise Arch, a part of the Fiery Furnace in Arches National Park. The picture is a view of that arch from directly underneath.

Within the ancient rough-hewn room
Cave of Cliffs—and an Arch—
the Expected Place, no Surprise,
Nothing grows of Physical Matter
but of Spirit.

Cradled between the rising walls, blocking
the ever-parched Sun
A shelter provides rock, hard and cool.

Sand-paper sound on boots, on hands,
And an always-ready Breeze hollows the shout
of the Word Outside muted, softened,
Lifting hairs on arms, the gentle brushing
Easing Breath, as atmospheric pressure
on the Shoreline.

Besides this breeze, alive—
Persists the Barren Stone.

Canteen water, warm and metallic,
dripping slightly,
Splashes upward, outward—Expelled Away
from the unreceiving Rock of Earth.

There is no use of Living Water
in the Desert Cavern.