Where I Walk

By Andrew R. Duckworth

There were those here before me,
Those who cultivated,
Rode on horseback,
Those who understood
What others cannot
Scattered across the hills,
The plains, the canyon,
Peoples who lived and thrived
Long before my steps echoed
Across a barren vastness
Of yellow and tan,
Long before innovation
Brought parking lots
And department stores,
Long before the apartments
Popped into existence overnight,
One after the other,
An invading force
Taking every inch
Of the hills nearby,
Long before the interstates.
There’s history where I walk,
There are graves where I walk,
Creation where I walk.
In the footprints behind,
I see a trail of bent grass-
Flowers crushed to the dirt.