Red

Long beaten on the dead of night,

The cusp of something sculpting inside me, unzipping my skin,

Unraveling my tendons, just to scratch a rusted nail against my bones.

But I find peace, through the thick comings that are seemingly bleak.

 

While red bulbous lights hum with the soft echo of a slap guitar player

Jumbling out his heart to hear, I watch the geyser of a fountain,

Push the red reflecting water up, in a fancy parade of sparkle.

Still motion, let me stand from this bench and ascend to its rosy plateau,

To dance the water in bringing me higher.

But it just falls, and I am at peace.

 

Long beaten in the night with death,

The backbones of a spiny saguaro cactus, stand proudly.

Bereaved of water for months,

A burrowed bird den, that rots one side of its upheld arm,

It blooms a pink flower with a golden inside.

 

While looking down from 10,000 feet above sea level,

Into an ocean of brushes, brambles, and ironwood trees,

The howl of an owl reverberates between two orange rock mountains

In Sedona Arizona.

The rocks lead to a cliff I let my feet dangle,

And wish an elaborate orchestra could conduct my emotions of

A tide twisting frenzy between bewilderment and euphoria.

And peace.

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