The Gorge - Carla McGill

A wide gorge, purple,
red aggressive edges
ragged stones
sharp and sudden
later turned into those smooth
river stones I love,
and this was my young journey.

Now ocean mist and coffee
from the café provoke me
to shuck the remnants,
hop on that sailboat
to reach another shore

Every sea ride
now is like the burial,
ashes swilling in the wake,
my father on his own
dusky quest
without a compass

Yet I do step into a clear
sparkling pool, swim freely
with gorgeous clear-hearted
views, yet watching, like
a desert hawk or mountain eagle,
all movements of all shadows.

Carla McGill has a doctorate in English with an emphasis in American literature. She has taught at the University of California, Riverside, and California State University, San Bernardino.

Intrigued by landscapes and imagery, she has written poetry and fiction attempting to present them to readers and has completed a collection, not yet published. Currently, she is working on a second collection, a memoir in poetry.

She grew up in a small town in Southern California where her parents grew up. She met her husband while they were in middle school, both having the same teacher who later became her stepfather once her parents had been divorced for several years.