This is a poem about the desert and about the beauty of native people’s ways of life.

In the desert

we dream

only of water

our way of imploring the sky,

blue in its cloudless austerity,

to nourish the

parched, cracked

tapestry of

blowing sagebrush,

swirling specks of sand,

coiling snakes,

prickly pear cactus,

and swaying lizard tails;

but here there is no disillusionment

in mirages,

works of jealous, angry gods,

just a knowledge of the

nurturing honey-colored earth

as abundant and pure as the

air, blue sky, and bright red sun

Organ Pipe Cactus at the Desert Botanical Garden, Phoenix, Arizona by Scandblue

Photo Source: Scandblue on Flickr

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