“She walked in with sadness in her eyes. I can tell she’d been sleeping with the stars…”
Does anyone else feel like that when they emerge out of nature? It is like a longing for the expanse of scenery and heart; being back in civilization puts the sadness in your eyes. Vulnerable and raw from another amazing time in the valley of death, it’s vastness, diversity and extremes has transformed something inside of me. Perhaps a former wish finally died.
So beautiful in it’s stillness and quiet yet dangerous and severe. The roads just go on and on, somehow suddenly there is this random sand dune that you must straddle or you are 200 feet below sea level- licking the salt on the ground or walking on the rim of a giant crater or precariously balancing on a devil’s golf course and listening to it crackle in the sun.
The desert inspires me into poetry like this homage to Dr. Clarissa Pinkola-Estés, the brilliant woman who penned my bible Women Who Run With The Wolves…
Rio Abajo Rio
The desert between us
decieves and tricks and with the
gusts of so thick, blinding winds.
Small cactus flower, I search desperately for
this nourishing river hidden below.
And like an earthly Prometheus,
it lies guarded and shallow.
What starves these petals
in vain I probe-
I know what the stars told me
and they continue their shine and brightly.
I see him in dreams, on streets, in fire light yet
I haven’t seen you at all.
Like that shifty dark sand,
my grip wants to close in only too quickly
you fall away.
So, so many moons new then full
and the many planets constructing the way.
When the light danced in your cave and a
tear fell down my cheek
most of what the desert is all dusty beneath.
But I could melt into this warmth and be taken away by
the rio abajo rio into a perpetual desert night.
Flowers close and wait and reach and cower,
stars twinkling turns to winking turns to shooting
turns to wishing.