The End


Nicole Croke | July 2018



I wake up to the color of fire outside my window
The canyon walls ablaze with the rising sun
It is seven AM and all I can think of is light against shadows
The way my body projects into the dust
I am waiting for noontime
When the heat of the day mutes everything around me
Brick red columns with creamy striations
I am melting
I am part of the earth around me
My limbs splayed onto the grass
The sky pulsing over my head
I am waiting for evening
When the liquid purples of sunset rim the canyon walls
And cast lavender darkness down the rocks that jut above me
This is the time of day where I start coming to life again
A shock of electricity bolts through my limbs
The vapor of my being rises from the scorched earth
A hovering cloud
Dissonant
Reforming
The sun sets below the canyon walls
As I become whole again
The towering black sculptures of sandstone stand guard above me
I know my path
This is survival
This is exuberance
This is the end











Interested in contributing to The Dust Magazine? Check out our submissions page for more info.

The Dust Magazine is a 501-c3 nonprofit organization under the umbrella of Moab Arts Center and run entirely by volunteers. We rely on business sponsorships, reader contributions, and donated submissions to continue the mission.


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Interested in contributing to The Dust Magazine? Check out our submissions page.





The Dust Magazine is a 501-c3 nonprofit organization under the umbrella of Moab Arts Center and run entirely by volunteers. We rely on business sponsorships, reader contributions, and donated submissions to continue the mission.