Rio Grande Theophany / Latayne C. Scott
I’m new at this.
Behind the procession.
Then in it, it becomes, as it flows around me.
Babies, in furry hoods in strollers, blink.
The eyes of the bigger children search the chamisa for the glint of water.
The old parents of parents take the shortcut to the shore.
The seas didn’t part, we did, to take the land.
The chants echo as we pass
Under the footbridge tunnel.
With such a long line, others so far ahead,
We have become our own antiphony.
What sunheat was on us in the January air
Is sucked into the notes
And bounces off the walls
And returns to us as shivers.
We emerge as slow serpentine, chanting, singing.
Strangers on paseo-strolls gawk at the banners, the robes,
The byzantine almost tangible in the air.
On the banks, there are ancient formations
And remembering-rites.
A group of the young men fidget
And glance again and again
At the not-so-grande languid Rio.
Aha!
Now!
Nikolay the priest hefts the giant crucifix
And throws it into the course
For the life of me, I can’t fathom this yet.
The young men grin, elbowing each other solemnly,
And strip to trunks and bravery.
I can see the puckered pores from here.
I can see the
Wind.
In their eyes I see:
They once watched from strollers
And dreamed of this day.
They are held back by invisible starting lines
Till they can throw themselves into the glinting waters
To retrieve the Wood
Before it floats downstream.
In this
All waters are holied.
We thirst.
Latayne C. Scott is the author of 31 published books and thousands of shorter published works. She was the recipient of Pepperdine University’s Distinguished Christian Service Award for “Creative Christian Writing,” and is the Author in Residence of Trinity Southwest University in Albuquerque, NM. She teaches online classes on The Phases of Faith, how to write a Biopedia, and other subjects; and lives in Albuquerque NM.
All poetry and supplementary material: copyright 2025 by Latayne C. Scott. All rights reserved.
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