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 music

the bright warm sun

and knows

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.

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