CANYONS of SOULS
Walking along the floor of the narrow canyon, with its towering dark walls, I hear the familiar hum. I look up at the ribbon of stars above me, I walk past crossing canyons going, who knows where. I feel at peace.
I hear footsteps, five young blacks surround me. “What are you doing here?” one asks angrily. “Enjoying the peace and quiet of the night.” They look at me for several seconds, then he asks, “Aren’t you afraid?” “No, I enjoy the night.” “No, I mean, aren‘t you afraid of us?” “No”…..He‘s puzzled. “ Who are you?” “I’m an airline Captain.” “Do you fly those big airplanes?” They all want to know. “Yes.” “What’s it like, flying airplanes?” “Very fun.”
Walking and talking about my flying to many places we come to another cross canyon, they stop, “This is as far as we can go.” “Okay, I understand. You guys take care of yourselves.” They slowly disappear as I walk on to places they think they can never go. Sad how these canyon walls can be a prison.
Continuing along the canyon floor I become aware of the hum again. The sky is showing a little light, the stars are dimmer, features are gradually taking shape...The hum fading. In the dawn light, I can barely make out the Park Sheraton.
A louder noise is replacing the hum as I listen to millions of souls that live in the canyons of New York. Awake during the day or asleep each night, the city hums with life, as if it is itself a living thing.
Marshall Kimbrough-Warren
