In this desert
where even the most sensuous kiss
dries to a crisp
where the greatest artwork,
blows away in a dust devil,
where even a tear drop sears to nothing
in the relentless whirling of time,
I call out to You.
With a heart desiccated
as that giant saguaro corpse laid out
black and eaten on the ground,
I beg for even one green blade of grass.
Then I awaken, transported,
the howling wind quiet
the dust settled.
Spring green carpets the ground,
ocotillo sprouts leaves so succulent
you could eat them.
A curved-bill thrasher whistles its joy.
My heart soaks in the dew
the bright warm sun
this Eden in the desert
is my true home.
Then I see, it is for me
the pain of those prickly pear thorns
the burning heat
the sand that thwarts my steps,
here for me to let go
so that I can know:
All is Eden.