Desert Coach

Mist of snow and light surround me now and Lay on a kind of trance. Nostalgia for soft, gentle, times. The best of life itself. Listen! Golden painted chimes Hung on the tree outside. Light flakes of snow drifting Down upon them. Teaching of snow in the  Passive settling in. Lays on a kind of peace And quietness to the world.

Simple things great pleasure bring. Tomatoes on the vine, Hanging lush and red, Tempting to come down. Our furry friends,  So content. Lumped up in bed. Simple things make life worth living. Kind words, gentle touch,  Promises made and kept. All so freely given. A true friend. Now that is a great treasure. Someone there for you. And when in trouble Come when you call their name.

What secrets do you have? What memories hidden in your heart? And does your heart bleed At the very thought of them? You are not alone. Far from it. All of us unless Hard as stone. Our secrets. The one we truly loved and lost. Couldn't save, Too great the cost. A place and time we wanted most. But daily life and our duties first. Kept us from our joyful berth. So it is with all of us. Our secrets. We lock them up and keep them tight. Something we ponder in the night.

Yeats hyper, Ezra crazy  And Hemingway blowing his brains out. Here I am working away. Looking into my word hoard. Old English this. A pearl of great price And a mead hall full of beer. Raise the tankard then And celebrate awhile The extent of their memories. It is found right here In these syllables of rhyme.

Morning of the sixth day. Creation unfolding. Living creatures to fill the land. Wild animals in fine array. Livestock according to their kind. All moving above the ground. Moving in plains, valleys, and hills. Jungles, forests, and mountainous terrain. Fanning out into the lushness of the created world. Then far out the desert lands. Now something for them too. All the creatures that move along the ground. So came into it. My rattler friends.

Middle of the afternoon. Hottest time for a sermon. Listen then. A short one this. Just how you all like it. And then back to the water. Don't try to be consoled out here. Do a little consoling. And you all know the words to live by. Faith, hope, love, joy, charity. So look to these And practice them. And as to dying. That sun overhead is eternal.

Don't do the pain. Sun is hot above. Do the love, so much better then. Don't say the words. Be slow to anger now. Sun grows warmer still. Don't raise the hands, Keep them gentle now, Stay silent in the sun. Look outward now. There is so much pain Where others hurt. Now lift up those hands, Ease a little pain away. The sun is hotter still.

Vast and hot Going out beyond The mountains There are lessons out here. How that some Full of soft talk And silver tongues Will strike from the back. Others full of promises And the never let you down But soon forgotten. Then the really  Dangerous ones Who will throw you Down and not give you a chance. Called daily life out Here but really The same all over. Words and promises said, Hidden meanings, Sober lies. In the city called agenda. Be watchful of agenda here. Out in this desert land. Maybe hidden strike and venom And you don't get up.

Travelling love's great road. Full of trials and tribulations but  Joyful all the way. This wide road of many water stops. Cool clear water as we go. Life giving. Life saving. Not bottled up. Water freely given. Now with a pinkish hue. Drinking deeply as We move along. This an unending journey.

Light and love. Sun and love. Desert resplendent with light. Walk in its light. You are wrapped in light. Unfolding of the words out here, A sun so clear to guide us. A solitude is out here. It radiates a signal near. Fellowship of light. An easy yoke taken up. Coming down and looking out and in. The whole mystery of light. A perfect desert place.

Walls of bones. We surround you now. Reminders of ticking time. Lives now out of rhyme. Bleached white and stark Canvas of all those Who have gone before. Think upon us. Stayed remnants now of wit and words. Toiling scribes and philosophers. Great thoughts and uncompleted deeds. Books almost without end. Look upon us. Hands that once entwined in love. Chaste pieces that never felt a kiss. Bone gentle and at peace. Others scarred by violence release. Meditate upon us. If only we could swirl and join. Pageants of joy and laughter Hidden liaisons of promises And unfinished business. Oh us great walls of bones, How we await your arrival In our halls. Your place in death's great tapestry.

This rhythm is so sweet to me. Riding the rails at night. Love trains. Always have. My grandfather in Scotland. He painted engines. Steam driven black iron. Now here I am travelling the night miles. Looking out it is all passing trance, Flashing trees and labyrinths of tunnels. An awesome time this. Seeing through a window darkly. Such churning steady rhythm of the wheels. Power of motion underneath. Here in my cabin I have it all. Moving room with a view. Passing silence of shadows and nighttime's mysteries. Moving train now mountain climbing steady and chugging It up through the passes. Relentless power in motion. I love it. The riding the train at night.

Oh, there he goes amongst the birds again! Crazy guy with bread of life flowing down. Flock of followers gathered round, What is he saying can hardly hear. Sow love, hope, pardon, light, Such little words with such ardor spoke. Not one will fly. They keep coming down. They hold position as he walks along. What is he saying now Can hear some gentle words. Live joy, love, light. There goes those words again. Not one will fly. More coming down. They land to hear the joyful sounds.

No one came today. Or yesterday. Or last week. Maybe they come today. So she reads awhile. Reads some poetry.  Thinks of her home and a garden of roses. How she loved them so. The roses red as blood. Sharp thorns to watch out. And the family all about. She loved them so many years. Roses and family. Oh how they go together. Now she must rest. They told her so. At first just hinting of it. Then the day of moving in.  She remembers that day. The moving in. Pictures and mementos of everything. Sharing them as they were carried in. Look at this one they say. Grandpa and you on your wedding day. And this one of the grandkids stays. Oh what good times they had. Now she must rest. They told her so. It is only for the best. And we promise to visit often.

Looking down on the valley below. Millions of lights reflecting quite a show. What mysteries unfolding in this twinkling of colors? So white and red and shimmering in the night. Kind words or vicious fights. All the activity taking flight and moving about in the world below. Such awesome quiet here. So much happening near. What secrets of the night happening far down there? In the homes and streets where all the movement tight. What news will the morning bring? And will we cry? Or will we sing?

Lone rider of the sun rails. Chained to the rhythm of the churning iron. Held captive by his belt of words. Shouting hard to feed the fuel of his own voice. He travels alone. Desert wanderer. Hot metal underneath wooden floors hardened sheath. He is solitary hobo of the baggage car. Sifting through the memories of his own imaginings. Water stops flashing by. Broken towers and hanging sky. A town of steps leading out and away. Straying down into a copper mine. Ghost bodies now painted and sun gleaming. Hands calloused and streaming thrusting the rider out. Lone victim of the sun rails.

Let's play a game. Life or death the stakes. Rumba of rattlesnakes. You want them bad. Desert's secrets. All waiting to be had. If you can get through us. Let's play a little game. Life or death your outcome. You are warm. Just how we like you. We sense your heat And movement on the ground.  Come a little closer. Then we will see you too. You want it bad. The lost dutchman's gold. Could turn your life around, Put you on the old man's map. Keep moving and sweating up. We like you that way. And keep on dreaming That it is ok. That you are on the right path. That you are the chosen one. You have your senses heightened, So have we. Come on! So close! Nice little rumba dance we have Planned for you.

Gold!  Always in his head. Dreaming, dreaming, glistening gold just hidden a little up ahead. Got to find it today. This gold. Will make life turn and straighten up, the gold. Got to find it today. Been looking so many years. Lost so much in the hunt. Two wives and a daughter too. Got to dig it up today. Got to make life turn back right today. Grizzled beard. Parched broken up hands. Rippled out face. That is what time has done. This desert too. But mostly the gold...the hunting for the gold. Got to get it up today. Answer to everything. Way out of this desert land. Ticket to women and the easy life. The gold. Oh how it shines and beckons in the sun. The desert gold. Just up ahead. Gold!

Nothing like the great swath of the giant colors in an Arizona sunset. Bold, brilliant red, orange, and black wide strokes across the sky. Makes you think on God so easily. This will do it. The way dust and clouds come together in sunset masterpiece. I never tire of it. Seeing the canvas filled on a summer night and knowing to look up. If all would just look up.

Work them out here, the broken up emotions, the promises unkept, the never do it again, but does. words simply spoken then so simply broken. the sun will burn down on this, your nagging hurt and twisted up faith. sun burn down, sun burn down, mantra of cleansing. it takes time, this therapy in the sun, and solitude. no one around, you find a special friend, yourself in the light. the sun says you are worthy. so new days come more brightly each one. this is a special kind of therapy. it works on you.

And stingers. Black. Congregating over there. The resilient ones. Bark scorpions. Translate bark to sting. Now you get the thing. Low body count. High sting record though. Like many desert dwellers they have their ways. They stay away from us and don't make a fuss. Leave us alone they seem to say. We have ourselves and choose the company we keep. And... It doesn't include you.

Shared room in the desert. Room for two. So simple our days and nights. Easy conversation and a hot sun overhead. We enjoy the easy ways. No demands just watch a little garden grow. It is our oasis in the desert. We found it planted here. A few friends we have. They are over there. They are full of fur and stare at us. Why are we all here they seem to ask. This desert place where we play. They like simple things too. Water, food, and room with a view. Out of our window a lavish view. Desert's lushness when spring has come. Then night upon us. We can see the stars. Most all of them. And hear howling in the night. Coyotes far off.

Got to get it about them. The coyotes. They are out here. All over the place. Maybe right behind your fence. It is a survival thing. We all know something about that. It is a territory thing. Heaven knows we like our territory. Settlers moving in. Who is going to win land's grabbing? Resolution maybe for city's plight. Everyone howling into the night!

Don't even try to beat them at this water race. You. Three days out. And no water now. You wonder how another day without. Them over there. Rattlers and scorpions. Waiting for you to give out. Then their clean up chore.

Sun streaming through your core warming and warming you can hardly breathe. Long deep love streaming through strong to the bones. Sun holding holding hotter now, moving everywhere. Unstopping sun, going the secret places and then moving more. Ever moving. This sun, so entangled now, locked in hot embrace with you. This lover sun.

The desert will try you. Baked heat of your body. Sun up all day, relentless. Jesus knew. He went into the desert. The devil met him there. Taunting and taunting. Relentless devil promises. The desert will try you. Thirst parched up in your throat. You can hardly speak and then delirium. Not a pleasant way to die. Crawling for shade brush, some sliver of shadow to save you a little while. I know. I have been that way. Out of water and caught in desert's death grip. Only my mind saved me, before it almost went out. Just make it a little farther. The car not far off. And water there. So make slow movement now, strain to move along the trail, another short piece make, another brush of shade and rock. Flashback then of words that couldn't be spoken now. Maybe never, just dry saliva dirt. Somehow maybe Jesus saw, brought back memories of his torment then. Had mercy and his answers and helped me make it to the car.

The desert is a great place to confront your deepest thoughts and emotions and to try and make sense of the struggles of life. It is a quiet solitary place where relentless heat bears down on your memories and yearnings to make something of it all. It is a place of great paradox. Bright sun and dark shadows. There is serious danger as well as immense beauty all around. This is a place, real and imaginary, where you can sweat the devil out. It is a land you can go into and possibly never leave. In the blog posts to come I invite you to journey with me into this landscape of sparse water and dynamic changes. I welcome you as a fellow traveler confronting our deepest thoughts and emotions.  Let us make a pack to head far out into this heated maze and seek the revelations that only the desert's intense heat and solitude can afford.