The Desert

The desert is still hot. A cold heat, not an enjoyable romantic heat. The sand gives me blisters. Tears my feet apart so there is nothing cute or feminine about them. The utter desolation makes me see and hear things that are not really there. The lack of water tears at my throat in the mornings and the physical pain and agony drops me to my knees.

But if I was not on my back screaming in pain I would not see the desert sunrise. It's why I don't like the colors pink and purple. We could never bottle that intensity or reproduce the the sheer relief of being a part of such a rainbow, only truly appreciated after a night of torture. In the dizzy-ness and delusions brought on by such soul starvation I miss judge where the sand stops and the sky starts. For a few short minutes every morning I spin and run and fly through a place where there is no time or constraints of gravity and mass. I just am, I just am a piece of this m moving color and texture.

And time; that steals it. My euphoria of my few morning minutes revolt against me and my well greeted friend each morning becomes my bitter enemy. It's welcome glint in the morning becomes blazing heat by noon.

In the evenings I let tears fall as I say goodbye slowly; she dips behind the furthest mound. Splashing a new and different display from morning as if she's trying to make me decide which part of her I love more deeply: the morning or the evening. Both bring pain. In the morning I know I will hate her shortly but in evening her beauty bittersweet because I know I must be without her again.

That's what I've learned about the desert. I can't cling to the mirage I saw 5 days ago, or the camel rider I thought I may heard in the silence 3 weeks ago. Trying to count days or hours spins my measly brain and trying to keep myself busy is so utterly hopeless and even arrogant. I must give myself to it. To this silence, to the time. To this space. I have learned that this time, I have to pour myself out completely. I know, I have been promised rescue. This time...