I was inspired by the poet Kate Northrop at the Jackson Hole Writer’s Conference to write this poem. During her poetry seminar, we explored “resistance” in both exterior (outside the poem) and interior (forces within the poem). Our writing exercise was to 1) write a poem titled the name of a color; 2) the first line of the poem should be ________(color) came alive; 18 lines total, repeating the color seven times in lines 9-18.
Thinking about resistance, learning to kayak (and sticking with it!) was the first thing that came to mind. And the next thing was the red kayak I learned in. Overcoming fear, learning to stop fighting the currents, flow, camaraderie, and trust … kayaking offers so many metaphors for living a good life.
Poetry can be so intimidating, and I’ve definitely resisted that. But what I’m learning is that what keeps my creativity flowing is the idea that it can just be purely for fun.
RED
Red, the color of my first whitewater kayak, a Mirage, becomes alive, when she skips and dances through sagebrush canyons. I hold her tight even as my shins slam on sharp rocks, after swimming the tamest of rapids dotting the Upper Colorado. I kiss her when we finally spin into a calm eddy, hiding my tears from a nearby lover. 736 miles downstream, three months later I finger my spirit animal, a turquoise bear strung around my neck with red corral beads as me and my Mirage float toward the red roar of another Grand Canyon rapid and gave thanks to the towering red walls and beg forgiveness from the people my ancestors called red, before they took their sacred land to build that damn red dam that powers the red lights of Vegas. Dropping into the first monstrous red muddy wave, the tip of my red Mirage goes vertical, then upside down, into utter chaos until the red blade of my paddle skims the surface, and I roll up to a red cheer from friends on shore, more alive than I could have ever imagined.
Now go out and have some RED fun!