{"id":62180,"date":"2022-03-06T06:48:17","date_gmt":"2022-03-06T12:48:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/?p=62180"},"modified":"2022-03-07T07:50:07","modified_gmt":"2022-03-07T13:50:07","slug":"in-praise-of-great-salt-lake","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/in-praise-of-great-salt-lake\/","title":{"rendered":"In Praise of Great Salt Lake"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

Members of the Utah Women’s Forum at the shores of Great Salt Lake (photo courtesy nanseymour.com)<\/p><\/div>\n

“irrecplaceable,” the community poem created as part of a vigil for Great Salt Lake, is overflowing. Intended to be at least 1,700 lines long, representing the square miles of water that would be needed to fully restore the lake,\u00a0 the poem exceeded 2200 lines as the vigil came to its conclusion on March 5.<\/p>\n

The poem and the vigil was nurtured by Nan Seymour, a poet and community builder who provides “narrative encouragement” through River Writing<\/a>, a series of storytelling workshops she began in 2015.\u00a0 Seymour started camping on the shores of Great Salt Lake in mid-January of this year in an effort to inspire legislation that would help to restore GSL. In the weeks that followed, she has been joined by fellow lake nerds, poets, and community and school groups. Each has left their own contribution to the expanding praise of and plea for the largest salt lake in the Western Hemisphere.<\/p>\n

The following is a sampling of the nearly 300 voices that went into the creation of the poem. You can read the full poem at nanseymour.com<\/a>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

irreplaceable<\/h2>\n

Invocation
\nwhen praise began to flow<\/h3>\n

we watched the water rise
\nalong both sides of the causeway
\neleven islands recovered
\ntheir autonomy. microbialites sighed
\nwith relief. when praise began to flow
\nthe dust subsided. metals resettled
\non the seafloor, arsenic and mercury
\nwere lulled back to sleep
\nblanketed once more
\nby the great weight of water<\/p>\n

when praise began to flow
\nthree rivers rushed forth unhindered
\nas greed relinquished its grasp
\nand fat flakes of snow tumbled
\ninto the great body becoming
\nclouds, drifting into peaks
\nmaking snow and more snow
\nand then creeks, then rivers
\nthen lake, and then lake effect
\nalso known as sustenance
\nalso known as snow
\nand the waters did not desert
\nus when praise began to flow<\/p>\n

when praise began to flow
\nwe returned to fourth grade field trips
\nto picnics run amok, spirited floats
\nand salt-encrusted bodies
\nboats bobbed back to their docks
\nwe recalled how to sail
\nwe could taste our first kiss
\nwe remembered a day we didn\u2019t die<\/p>\n

when praise began to flow
\nwe gathered and told these stories
\nand a culture of disdain released its chokehold
\nour eyes shone with love and even
\nreverence, which began to grow
\nwhen praise began to flow
\nwe sorrowed over the way
\nwe had shunned her
\nirreplaceable body and vowed
\nnever again to part from her company
\nand the love we felt for each drop
\nmaking a way to her whale-heart
\nbecame unfathomable<\/p>\n

when praise began to flow
\nwe thirsted for the names of birds
\nwe learned the mouth-feel of the words
\ngrebe, avocet, willet
\npelican, curlew, stilt
\nwe observed their long dives
\nsudden swerves, and bright eyes
\nwe noted their cries and habits
\ntracing murmurations
\nwe drew love
\nbeyond naming<\/p>\n

when praise began to flow
\nwe felt the genesis of our feathers
\nwe felt water return to the sea
\nof ourselves, we felt
\na swell in the lake
\nof ourselves. we felt
\nthe surge of our rivers
\nwe felt tidal. we felt primal. we fell
\nwith the snow. we grew ocean-
\nhearted. we began to know
\nwe had never been separate
\nand thus could not be parted
\nwhen praise began to flow<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Part 3
\node to microbialites by nan seymour<\/h3>\n

first breathers, imperiled neighbors\u2014
\nyou rise from the shallows in ancient forms
\na diversity of architects
\nbuilding layer upon layer of life<\/p>\n

metabolizers of light\u2014
\nbehold your living edge
\nyou nurture brine shrimp and brine flies
\nwho fill grebes and stilts,
\nphalaropes, avocets, and cliff swallows
\nyou sing through the wing bones of seagulls
\nthank you for each feathered citizen
\nthank you for filling the air with flight<\/p>\n

saline corals, great sustainers\u2014
\nbehold your delicate rhythms
\nyour time-bending and slow growth
\nyou were here before handcarts and causeways
\nbefore state parks, airports, and apps
\nbefore we began to make weather
\nyou took centuries to form
\nwe did not create you
\nmay we take in the fact
\nthat we cannot remake you<\/p>\n

platforms of life
\nholy origins\u2014
\nmay we humble ourselves
\nbefore you as your descendants
\nmay we find reverence
\nfor we are latecomers
\ndiverting your waters
\nif we don\u2019t cease
\nyou will perish
\nmay we bring water in time<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Part 6
\npraise chorus from eighty friends of great salt lake<\/h3>\n

praise dawn on the causeway
\na rusty coyote splashing through
\nrounding the corner, antelope island opens to view
\npraise the startling vista<\/p>\n

praise distant calm from the highway
\npraise space for bison to thrive
\npraise wild desolation so close to home
\npraise ancient world in present day<\/p>\n

praise winter ski trips with friends
\npraise salty foam whipping up at rozel point
\npraise ten thousand avocets with rusty heads
\npraise imagination, praise billions of brine shrimp<\/p>\n

praise tornadoes of midges
\npraise hopper salt crystals
\nplucked from lake bed like so many teeth
\npraise floating between sky and sky<\/p>\n

praise her salty kiss burning like fire on the horizon
\nappalled by flies, enthralled by sunset
\ngrassy slopes grace us, riding alongside
\npraise the midnight bicycle ride<\/p>\n

praise the color explosion at days end
\nwhite foam, watery pastiche, changing blues,
\ndepending on where you stand
\npraise orange, in sky and on water<\/p>\n

praise the days when the water is its pinkest
\nsalt crystals sparkle at a pale blue sky
\npraise sage green with deep maroon
\nsilhouettes against gradient colors<\/p>\n

the site of gulls without an ocean,
\nin the desert fighting for fries
\ni will miss the funky smell
\npraise slow, salty undulations<\/p>\n

i will miss the feel of salt
\nno lake, no lake effect snow,
\nno snow, no winters, no water
\npraise hollowing waves of sorrow<\/p>\n

praise feeling weight in damp smash
\npraise the place out past the railroad
\nthe place that saved me in 2020
\nwhere the water is sometimes pink<\/p>\n

praise ripples, praise stillness
\npraise kit carson\u2019s cross
\npraise moments spent lost
\npraise sun on salt, praise sky<\/p>\n

praise eared grebes
\nwith golden feathers
\nand scarlet eyes
\npraise eared grebes!<\/p>\n

praise the flight of the migratory
\npraise rest for birds and earth
\npraise a solitary mammoth tooth
\ncaught between time and depth<\/p>\n

praise children marveling at brine shrimp
\npraise bringing a friend for a first visit
\npraise people swimming
\npraise the job of a lake girl<\/p>\n

praise the drive to the jetty
\nthe jetty, pink and i can\u2019t believe it
\nknee deep in the waters of Smithson\u2019s spiral,
\npraise the illuminated salty sculpture<\/p>\n

how would it be for the spiral
\nto slip under the waves
\nand sleep again?
\npraise layers of time<\/p>\n

praise a picnic with two ninety year-old women
\nno-see-ums defending the beaches
\nswirled clouds mimic water ripples
\npraise contemplating stars from buffalo point<\/p>\n

praise sunsets overlooking saltair,
\nmore impressive than the show inside
\npraise floating on a summer day in \u201972,
\nfeeling like a pretzel after drying<\/p>\n

praise learning and teaching a unique ecosystem
\nkids laugh when i tell them the water will sting their eyes
\nfeeling the planet\u2019s pulse
\nforms and cures loneliness<\/p>\n

praise home, the home i am made of\u2014
\npraise reflections of mackerel sky
\nvast expanses, mirror-smooth
\nfeel alone and connected at the same time<\/p>\n

praise the great blue heron
\ntaking off and flying through reeds
\npraise capturing the amber eye of an egret
\nthrough a cloud of thousands of gnats<\/p>\n

praise the panoramic view from frary peak
\npraise joy on the shores of stansbury
\npraise gazing at the intense blue
\ngolden grasses blowing in symphony<\/p>\n

praise the texture of pickle grass
\npraise the smell of rainfall, stinky, fresh
\npraise briny socks and briny smiles
\npraise senses scrubbed raw<\/p>\n

praise visiting the lake with my mother
\nmemorias com o meu pai
\npraise the ever mutable backdrop of childhood
\nvisit even when you are afraid<\/p>\n

bear witness even when you are afraid
\nhow can water be so heavy?
\nthe lake, my sister, lives in my body,
\ncarries my weight.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Part 11
\nTo the Baby Pelican by Willy Palomo<\/h3>\n

praise the baby pelicans
\nsalt-white feathers tarred
\nlike filthy and immaculate
\nprophets.\u00a0\u00a0 we must all
\nbe notorious, ready to die
\nfor your gospel of crack
\nand eggshell.\u00a0 each of
\nyour feathers is a quill,
\na page of the book of life,
\nblack with our gasoline.
\nnobody reads books
\nanymore for fear of what
\nis written about them.
\nheirs of air and cloud,
\nblood brothers of breath
\nand wind.\u00a0 your bones
\nare snow that never melts,
\nonly glistens.\u00a0 you are
\ndisgusting and pure.
\nthe guilty condemn you
\nonly because innocence
\npains them.\u00a0 it pains me
\nto see the twisted hay
\nof your feathers,\u00a0 the weak
\nair melting beneath your
\nwings until you land like
\na ripped grocery bag,
\neggs broken, milk claiming
\na continent on the tile.
\nravens will dive. foxes sniff.
\nthey will join you in your
\nsticky grave, devoured
\nby their own hunger.
\nRest now, young one.
\nThis pain is for the living.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Part 19
\npraise to the tar seeps by gretchen ernster henderson<\/h3>\n

praise to the\u00a0tar\u00a0seeps
\nsticking together this
\nmatter: this water, this
\nart,\u00a0tar, mud, sky, brine,
\nsalt, sea, rocks, birds
\nfeathering into focus:
\nwingbeats and wind,
\nsand\u00a0crunches
\nunderfoot
\nall matters:
\nall waters
\nretreat, inscribing
\n\u2014lake level
\n\u2014lake level
\n\u2014lake level
\nrevealing
\nless snow
\nmore seeps
\nwhere language eludes
\n(disarticulated: bones,
\nwords) getting stuck
\nin \u201cdeath\u00a0traps\u201d
\nas a \u201cdead\u00a0sea\u201d
\nlives\u00a0as a body
\nof\u00a0water, of land
\namong bodies
\n(human,\u00a0animal, botanical)
\ninteracting as mineral
\nextract-
\nions\u00a0seep
\ninto our cells,
\ninfinitesimal\u00a0spirals
\ntransforming
\nas we sing: praise<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Part 20
\nBrine Shrimp Matter: praise chorus by Mr. Craner’s 6th grade class at Emerson Elementary<\/h3>\n

Brine shrimp matter to us.
\nWe care about them.
\nWe like how fast they swim.
\nThey may be small, but we need them so much.<\/p>\n

Brine shrimp matter.
\nThey are small but do a lot for us.
\nThe impact they have is so big.
\nPraise the way they feed so many amazing birds.<\/p>\n

Brine shrimp can only live in salt water,
\nonly in the south side of the lake,
\nonly in certain salinity.
\nTheir arms look like spaghetti.<\/p>\n

Praise their little black eyes sticking out of their heads.
\nPraise them for providing hundreds of jobs from farming cysts.
\nThey swim like they are crawling through a vast nothingness.
\nLike whales in the ocean but brine shrimp in Great Salt Lake.<\/p>\n

We love their bright colors when we see them.
\nWe like the little wing things that they swim with.
\nPraise the way their wings propel them through water.
\nIt\u2019s cool and unique how they swim.<\/p>\n

Brine shrimp matter.
\nThey\u2019re the ones who bring the life.
\nSomething that surprised us is how they help
\nprevent toxic dust from releasing.<\/p>\n

Brine shrimp matter
\nbecause they are a keystone species.
\nBrine shrimp matter
\nbecause we use the cysts to feed our fish.<\/p>\n

Brine shrimp are beautiful creatures,
\nthey help our ecosystem and our economy.
\nThey matter because 1. They are very cute
\n2. Without them the lake would be more unhealthy then it is.<\/p>\n

Even if we stopped diverting water, brine shrimp
\nwould still need to be there for the lake
\nto sustain so much life like it does.
\nBrine shrimp matter.<\/p>\n

Praise pink lines with wings swimming freely.
\nPraise black pure eyes staring into mine.
\nIf we did not have them,
\nwe would not be here today.<\/p>\n

Brine shrimp have multiple generations in one body of water.
\nPraise the way they have so many eggs.
\nGreat Salt Lake would not be great
\nif there were no brine shrimp.<\/p>\n

Praise the way their eyes pop out of their tiny bodies.
\nPraise the way you can see them so easily with their eyes.
\nBrine shrimp matter to us because they live
\nin the great Salt Lake City School District.<\/p>\n

Praise brine shrimp for giving us learning opportunities.
\nThey are the foundation of the whole lake.
\nThe mass of brine shrimp in Great Salt Lake
\nadds up to the mass of 1.8 million people.<\/p>\n

Brine shrimp matter to us because if they weren\u2019t in the GSL
\nwe wouldn\u2019t get to learn as much as we have
\nand we wouldn\u2019t have the opportunity
\nto go to the capital and see how a bill gets passed.<\/p>\n

Brine shrimp matter because of everything
\nthat has happened in 2021 to 2022\u2026
\nstudying Great Salt Lake has brought us
\nhappiness in this hard time.<\/p>\n

The praise poets of Mr. Craner’s 6th grade class at Emerson Elementary think that Brine Shrimp should be the official Utah State Crustacean.\u00a0Please sign this petition\u00a0<\/a>in support!<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Part 27
\nTwo Floats by Rachel Posner<\/h3>\n

1st float – Another World
\nA slow walk into the water,
\nawed by the slow rise of the brine flies
\nLike a murmuration of the smallest starlings
\nSettling into the stillness
\nA mirror reflecting back all that is
\nBrine flies covering my body
\nThe sweetest sensation
\nWhat a surprise<\/p>\n

2nd float – A Prayer
\nA slow walk into the water,
\nawed again by the slow rise of the brine flies
\nFinding my way onto my back –
\nmy enormous belly on top of the water
\nFinally buoyant, finally weightless
\nThe lake generously holding both of our bodies
\nAn offering of my love, my heart
\nA prayer for ease
\n24 hours later, my prayer answered
\nA baby girl birthed
\nReciprocity<\/p>\n

Rachel is a student, a witness, a worshiper, a citizen and a devotee of the Great Salt Lake. She’s been making the pilgrimage since she moved to SLC in 2006 and her little one was nearly born on the lake in 2009.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Part 32
\nNuestro Padre el Lago Salado by Jose Arevalo-Rivers<\/h3>\n

El se viste en azul cielo, blanco y rosa,
\nnos muestra en sus piernas su bello tatuaje de espiral de piedra,
\nsus cicatrices nos recuerda de la vida en la cual est\u00e1 llena.<\/p>\n

El tan leal nos muestra que es el lugar,
\nel lugar donde nos ha ayudado a construir casas,
\ny nos a dado sustento.
\nComo sus hijos nos ha criado ayud\u00e1ndonos a crecer.<\/p>\n

Nuestro padre el lago salado.<\/p>\n

~<\/p>\n

Our Father the Salt Lake<\/p>\n

He dresses in light blue, white, and pink,
\nshowing us his stone spiral tattoo,
\nhis scars remind us of the life he is filled with.<\/p>\n

He is loyal, he shows us he is the place,
\nthe place where he has helped us build our houses,
\nand has nourished us.
\nLike his children he has raised us and helped us grow.<\/p>\n

Our father the salt lake.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Part 44
\nDead Sea by Maxine Hanks<\/h3>\n

I wait to take my mood from the colors my mind finds out here
\nwhere horizontal water mirrors sky, in cobalt blue or cool slate gray.
\nGraceful gulls glide and caw\u00a0high above a mundane humanity,
\nfar beyond a sentient insantiy so indifferent to nature.
\nDesert life is born in sand to expire or\u00a0learn to fly, as
\nan ancient body of life-giving water is slowly dying.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Part 46
\nValentine for the Great Salt Lake by Sunni Wilkinson<\/h3>\n

From the sky, your clusters of brine shrimp eggs
\n              huddle and drift into thick brown swirls
\n                            like pools of chocolate milk. You, mother
\nto millions, amniotic sac waiting to hatch
\n               innumerable legs, flat and upright,
\n                            that paddle and push tiny boats
\nof creatures toward each other.
\n              You are buoyancy of bodies
\n                            toppled with light. You are love potion.<\/p>\n

From the sky you are the brightest glint,
\n               shine of a gum wrapper, a wild lick
\n                            across our desert face. From the sky you are
\na lost child. I bring my children to you
\n              and something primordial breathes
\n                            under our feet. My sons wear
\nyour salty crust, your brush
\n              of mineral across their bare and freckled legs
\n                            all the long drive home. They sleep inside<\/p>\n

your mottled and endless light.
\n              You are the place
\n                            that held me while I listened
\nto the meadowlark\u2019s song
\n              on a Spring afternoon so wide
\n                            and long that nothing but the wind
\nin the brown grass
\n               and that single bird
\n                             moved. You are the heart of stillness,
\nheart of lark and coyote, pink heart<\/p>\n

of Floyd, the flamingo who fled
\n                              the Salt Lake aviary and lived
\n                                            in the heart of you
\nfor years, migrating then returning,
\n                              a sighting of him like a flash
\n                                            of pink, a thump in the chest,
\n               a one-legged valentine
\n                             lost in blue.<\/p>\n

Note from the poet: For me, Antelope Island is a place of magic, where light is caught and reflected in every direction, and underneath is always that almost mythical lake,\u00a0opening the earth into another sky. And a day I spent with my family one Spring a couple of years ago, listening to meadowlarks near the lake, is still one of my most cherished memories.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Part 63
\nsin eater (anonymous)<\/h3>\n

great sin eater of the valley
\nconsumes corruption
\ninhales excess
\noffers up community offal
\ncarried away by serafin in transit
\nfrom heaven to hell
\nor hell to heaven
\nconfirmation
\nterminal need not be the end<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Part 66
\nIn Praise of Her Beauty by Lara Chho<\/h3>\n

I’ve come here to the shores of Great Salt Lake to notice,
\nto gather details, to pay attention to whatever she might teach me.<\/p>\n

Today it is a raven’s slick black body gliding and effortlessly perching from a rock,
\nsurveilling its territory, lone sentinel. Silence, broken
\nonly by the chukar’s chuckles, hidden in sagebrush, heard, but not seen.<\/p>\n

A young coyote leaps, their buff coat the color of the grass.<\/p>\n

The feel of bison patty in my hand, rough but oh so light,
\nstiff and pulpy like Japanese washi paper.<\/p>\n

The sky, so blue, so vast, punctuated by the few clouds captured on Frary peak.
\nPhragmites, orange tassels reaching for blue sky, seeds patiently waiting for winds.<\/p>\n

Bare feet gingerly picking over crusted dried lakebed,
\nthen sinking with sweet relief when we finally reach the wet softness of her shore.<\/p>\n

Children splashing, fully clothed, rolling, full of sand.
\nMid-February and warm, their delight
\nin her salty water reminds us what it is to touch innocence.<\/p>\n

My dog pulls me eagerly across the distance to the receding shore,
\neager for water until his nose and tongue tell him that she may not be what you expect.<\/p>\n

A brisk morning,
\nrewarded with the beating wings of eagles,
\nbeating a rhythm down to us from a celestial dimension.<\/p>\n

Some days it is a pilgrimage,
\na chance to be reminded of what it feels like
\nto be small in her Greatness.<\/p>\n

Some days I come to her shores to discover a balm,
\nthough the salt stings my skin,
\nit heals the ills I did not know I carried.<\/p>\n

To sit under her vast sky, engulfed by silence
\nand rocks, with their mysterious whisperings of deep time.
\nI feel elemental, brought back to the simplicity of bone and brine.<\/p>\n

A clear voice reaches out over her parched shores,
\nsinging praises to the four directions
\nlanguage I have never heard before,
\nyet I hear the call of ancestors
\nare they yet lost to us?
\nare we yet lost to them?<\/p>\n

A shiver down my spine,
\nand I remember that I am sacred too.
\n“Please bring the waters back.”<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

“irrecplaceable,” the community poem created as part of a vigil for Great Salt Lake, is overflowing. Intended to be at least 1,700 lines long, representing the square miles of water that would be needed to fully restore the lake,\u00a0 the poem exceeded 2200 lines as the vigil came […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1566,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_piecal_is_event":false,"_piecal_start_date":"","_piecal_end_date":"","_piecal_is_allday":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[35,2513],"tags":[2219,3828],"class_list":["post-62180","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-literary-arts","category-read-local-first","tag-great-salt-lake","tag-nan-seymour"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"publishpress_future_action":{"enabled":false,"date":"2026-05-06 17:15:07","action":"change-status","newStatus":"draft","terms":[],"taxonomy":"category","extraData":[]},"publishpress_future_workflow_manual_trigger":{"enabledWorkflows":[]},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/62180","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1566"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=62180"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/62180\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":62185,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/62180\/revisions\/62185"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=62180"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=62180"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=62180"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}