The Wreckage

Desert hills rising,
Like beacons.
Wide open spaces.
Nowhere to hide.
Lizards sunning scaly skin,
Like mine after all these years…
Skitter away,
With a sudden start.
The fall of my feet,
Upsetting the balance.

With each arid breeze,
The landscape is forever changed.
The grains of sand,
Displaced.
The Princess and the Pea.
You feel it…
Before you know it…
But it is happ’ning all the while.
What is left
Thrives in flame.

A layer of dust settles atop my parched skin.
So fine, almost translucent.
Invisible. Gritty.
The kind of dirt you feel even in your teeth.
The pulsing heat.
The whipping wind.
The strength it takes,
In the face of this,
To put one foot in front of the other.
But I do.

Light radiates unrelenting
Upon all that’s concealed here.
But it’s one refraction
That catches my eye.
There, mostly buried.
Just a shard here and there.
Fragments laid bare.
Too close…
To the surface.
Flying too close to the sun.

…I almost forgot about the wreckage.
The crash.
That mangled frame.
The parts exposed,
Left unattended.
Abandoned.
Now, rusting here in the hot desert sun.
Things can’t stay buried forever.
The changing wind
Stirs things up.

Seeing it again.
Here… Now…
Feels abrupt.
Harsh.
But, looking closer,
I see the years have changed things.
Edges that were sharp at first,
Now, weathered.
Smoother.
Curled in.

What once was jagged glass
That cut so deep,
Worn almost to treasures with time.
Gleaming in the sand,
Like diamonds.
Or stars spread ‘cross the night sky.
Where bodies once were buried.
Skeletons…
Now, blooms
A desert rose.

Good things grow from the wreckage.
The brave. The wild. The free.

Dark clouds roll in.
I didn’t see them coming.
Teardrops,
A salve for my charred skin.
Nourishment for new growth.
Even in the shadows,
Amidst the wind and storm,
The rays of light
Break through.
And I walk on.

Now brave. Now wild. Now free.