Red Canyon Petroglyph, Defacement?
The Geese, the Dog and the Bridge
We would wait on this side,
While the others waded
Waist-high into the river
Carrying what they carried,
Bundles like you never saw,
that was then,
Today is now. Have not heard a whisper,
The dog and I. He is quiet, licking an injured paw.
When we refused crossing
On a damaged railroad trestle,
With the white water below rushing
We had other narrow, winding trails to follow
That led to deeply rutted roads
And narrow graveled roads
through overgrown bushes and fallen
Branches.
Where they went and ended up
The crowd in torn coats moving
trudging back to dreams
Expecting to find things as before
When eagles nested on a high dam
And geese walked like herds of beasts
Across a narrow street
Inside a town now deserted
______________
Zeke Sanchez
Review by Bruce Parker
My grandfather’s grandfather immigrated to our country by ship, with something like permission. In his poems here Zeke Sanchez conveys the feeling of a far different immigration, and its aftermath of work and struggle. Without the close reading of the scholar, but as a reader with curiosity and anticipation, I let these poems wash over me in succession and retain a feeling of being there, of a life quite different from my own—which is one of the rewards and benefits of reading anything, everything I can get my hands on.