Elizabeth Glass has a Masters in Creative Writing from Miami University and is the recipient of grants from the Kentucky Foundation for Women and the Kentucky Arts Council. Her writing has been published in Writer’s Digest, Motif 3: All the Livelong Day, Chattahoochee Review, MadSwirl, Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal, The Single Hound and others. She makes a living doing social work with adults with intellectual disabilities. She lives in Louisville with her two wonderful dogs.



Hiking at Red River Gorge,
screams jutted over trees
like javelins thrown
toward the sky.

Rappelling from Half Moon Arch,
rope slipped from the gently
worn groove of sandstone.
A man, unconscious below
after slamming into rock face.

Some rappelled in to help,
others descended the rocky
cliffs on foot.  Someone
covered him with a
thin silver blanket.

I was new to the Gorge,
its ridges and streams
an overwhelming canvas
of greens and blues
come to life.

I toted water
in two-liter bottles
back and forth
for the others to drink
and watched as they
carried him up steep dirt
trails to safety.

Later, I changed socks,
wet from splashing water.
Others changed
their clothes covered
with blood.



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