feathers

wolf The Desert 1 wolf

fish creek

 

walking on the desert sands
feel the spirit run free,
gazing at the wonders
searching for renewed feelings,
sneaky teddy bear cacti
awaiting some unsuspecting
victim who ventures too close,
prickly pear cacti toasting
their dry existence with a
profusion of saffron flowers,
always stately saguaros
standing guard vigilantly
over a scene that exudes
the beauty and the wonder
of the Arizona desert,
this desert, this replenisher,
in the midst of feelings of
nothingness.

at sunset, a myriad
of colored, billowing clouds
moving across the sky fills it
with still more awesome beauty
in this presumed desolate place.
the long awaited healing
continues as one walks on
because finally peace begins
with everything that can
trouble the spirit for so long,
this majestic beauty,
all that is needed,
stretches on forever
and will always be here,
comforting,
soothing,
caressing,
providing the needed solace
sought for so long a time.

but SNAP! the dream is broken!
jagged streaks flash across the sky
soon followed by low rumbles,
a symphony of color and sound,
breaking the deep silence of dusk.
soon follows the downpour
crashing down on the land.
turning the face upward,
outstretched arms to the sky,
one calls to the spirits of
the Great Mystery, yearning
for solace certain to come.
here is the place to mend the
remnants of a broken heart,
its many pieces looking
to reconnect, to be whole
once again, while the heavens
cry along in this agony.

almost as sudden as it began,
the cooling rain ceases,
the air damp yet enveloping,
a wandering, lost one who
thought the end was near,
but still experiences the remorse,
the unrelenting, constant hurt,
overwhelmed by afterthoughts
once thought to have disappeared.
but again in this place they
surface, rising from the depths
perhaps because remembrances
were locked away in the heart,
a small corner once forgotten.
footprints continue to mark
their path into the desert,
away from everything close,
from anything that reminds
anyone of a broken heart.

clothes cling to the body,
hugging close like his arms once did,
but not the same comforting feeling
like once before but one that reaches
deep down to the inner core,
trying to pull emotions to the surface,
the pain that has been all consuming,
thoughts of what once was
but is no more, will never be again.
heavily laden, these clothes
feel binding, like one thinks
the love would continue to be.
but now it is over,
the feelings of love now replaced
by feelings of utter emptiness,
much like the desert,
once so full of life, of love,
but lonely at the same time.

so to walk on in search
of that one place, of that one feeling,
the one which will make all this
disappear forever, a quest for peace,
like the peace of the desert.
but the need is to go deep
into the mountains arising
in this vast wilderness,
close but yet so far away.
the trek continues towards
the majestic Superstitions,
a long journey, but one which
is necessary. A date long
forgotten by one but not by
the other rips apart
this spirit, longing for peace,
ever longing to heal.
the Superstitions often known
to provide that healing.

to be one with the earth again,
to feel free of any encumbrances,
to be able to live again,
this is what is sought.
the Superstitions have always
provided this, willingly,
so they must be the final destination.
no blue highways to follow there,
only the sands of the desert.











the wolf is my messenger


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copyright © Fall 1999, by louve14
revised 19 september 2004
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