Wadi Mujib

   
        The road, like a Roman road,
        leading straight and level,
        brings us up over a sharply angled bridge
        that spans the deep gorge
        of the Grand Canyon, Wadi Mujib.
        
        A sleek modern bridge
        that cuts across the crumbling chasm.
        
        At first I see a suspension bridge,
        but the expected tangled web
        of metal has been supplanted. 

        Instead, neatly etched into space,
        is the profile of two great triangles
        delineated by wide solid bases that soar up
        towards extreme narrowness-
        Geometric precision swiftly shaving girth,
        and the pinnacles seems to dissolve
        into the light air of deep sky.

        The chasm is the Grand Canyon
        of  Jordan, Wadi Mujib.
        Deep red rock with stratum shades
        that flux and fuse into shadow-
        a fissure that holds a shallow river
        as it empties into the Dead Sea.
        
        We pull over-
        rush up to take pictures.
        Pictures of the chasm,
        that's been there to be gazed at
        since history itself.
        Pictures of each other,
                                        
        knowing we're a brief interlude
        on this astonishing landscape.
        Pictures of the exquisite bridge.
        Pictures of rock formations looming
        against blue sky.  Pictures of the water
        way down below, the trickle
        that tickled these tall cliffs into place.
        Pictures of each other posing
        and pictures of each other
        taking pictures.

poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab

The Nook

        There is a nook,
        a small arced shape
        recessed in the stone wall,
        that holds a graceful urn
        from antiquity.
        
        A sparrow alights on the rim
        comes to sit in the sun,
        comes to sing
        and chatter
        and tell me,
        the shadow form,
        of other days
        when other sparrows
        came to bathe
        in a pitcher's warm wet water.
        
        Came to stir
        and sip
        and delight
        in my sleepiness
        as the sun stretches
        and the shadow becomes self.



poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab

Calmly Cruising

    We're on our way to
    take a buggy ride:

    Calmly cruising,
    in our sport utility vehicle,
    on the edge of a mountain top road
    that will takes us down
                towards Petra...

    Jaffar catches the blast
    of sonic boom:
    He steers the Land Rover off
            onto the dusty berm,
    and thrusts the gear into park.  
    He leaps up and out, detecting the trace
    of two gleaming gray jets as they pierce
    sound and sight chasing speed-

    A tilting metallic glimmer through
    the deep canyon of red rock at our feet.

    The two jets cut long swathes of space
    as straight as a Roman Road Airborne.
    Pitch and roll and flash past,
        dazzling my dazed husband
    who slumps back into the car
    muttering that he never thought
    he'd ever see
    a jet perform
    
            below his feet.

poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab

Sandstone

        We walk in a valley
        surrounded by cliff walls carved
        with Nabotean caves
        and Roman edifices...

        Incredible architecture all
        soaring far beyond the reach
        of my outstretched hand
        as my grappling mind
        climbs up sheer pink,
        red and purple cliff faces:
        tombs and temples
        a place of trade.

        Light air filled rock
        that makes our path pliant,
        and crumbles as I reach down into it-
        dissolves as I lift a small soft stone:

        I show our young sons
        how to make
        sand from stone...

        And the youngest
        spends the rest of the day
        in this spectacular expanse
        of carefully sculpted stone
        
        veering towards rocks to crunch.

poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab

Mosaics

 
        One hungry lion's roar
        echoes down this dark, domed tunnel.
        The percussion of his paws
        pounds through and out
        into the amphitheater:
        In Roman times.

        I am

        marveling
        at excavated images
        I've seen photographed,
        but never touched till now.

        Mosaics.

        I'm struck by the simplicity,
        the space between each tile;
        breath that flows into patterns        
        of leaping creatures
        and saints...

        I stand consumed.


 

 

 

poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab

Jerash

   
        
        Soft orange almost white
        limestone chiseled...

        Walk down an avenue of columns
        with curlicue crowns holding up the wide open sky.

        Lean over a wall and see a large mosaic floor
        creeping out of dust and earth.
        
        Trace the edges of crumbled walls,
        outlines of a structure:
        One of many contained in a city
        now pasture land
        for tourists and goats,
        who ever is nimble enough
        to find nourishment
        in this arid clime.
                                     

poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab

The Theater

       
        Stroll on an ancient walk,
        paved with thick flat stones
        puzzled into place.

        Step inside an amphitheater,
        listen as echo looms footsteps.

        Approach the curved span of seats
        that step up with narrow ledges-
        imagine sweat and smell and sound
        and no choice but to nudge
        and jostle with a crowd
        in this empty coliseum.
        
        But there must have been
        sometimes, in those long ago days,
        that this place was left empty.

        Empty enough for a dreamer...
        To rest on a narrow edge and watch  
        the sunlight play against stone

        as a cloud shadow dances
        across the stage.

poem copyright ©2000 Anne Selden Annab