Poetry from the Borderlands

We can walk in the shadows of massive mesquites
next to exhausted rivers and streams.
There are spring’s orange daisies,
the cholla and prickly pear,
cranes on the banks of Whitewater Draw.

There are the silent boulders of Texas Canyon,
a raven’s raspy caw,
the bat’s quiet elegance,
the sand dunes’ slow motion crawl,
and blustery, silently waving grasslands.

Mothers and fathers, children,
brothers, sisters, friends, and lovers,
past, present, future—
voices that resonate in our chests,
echoing, volatile, loving, caring.

We say prayers that are carried to heaven
on sunlight’s palms and by nighttime’s woolen feet,
greeted by the sun’s opening palette.

Inviting in the light,
reading the books,
playing the music;
the passage of time,
the random dances of all things
continue their eternal, rambling ways.