Lost in Utah
I am not a desert dweller
and yet here am I,
lost among the rugged sandstone and bristling sage.
Mountains bare of trees
stretch to mighty height above me.
The air is dry and empty,
whispering like the last breath
of a dying woman
as her head rolls back
and her pupils dilate
and all expression leaves her face...
The wind brings the scent of dead leaves,
but my mind has left me and arched north,
like a fleeing, silent comet,
across broad expanses
of pine forest and vaporous fog.
I fly among the hidden peaks of mountains
who obscure themselves in clouds,
following the veering path
of some great black bird
who calls me onward.
I sit on earth covered with pungent moss
and fern and listen to the forest breathe
its sigh of life.
I smell the ocean and hear the pull
of the constant changing tide.
Here, where ocean meets the forest,
My soul sits undisturbed
and my heart can breathe.
I breathe deep and smell. . . dead leaves
And as the scenery of this barren desert
slips back into my mind, I exhale,
slowly,
like a dying woman
as her head rolls back
and her pupils dilate,
and all expression leaves my face. . .
10 March 1995
Posted:Wednesday, September 4, 2002
