Posted in memoir

Easter Musings

The road stretches out into flat desert expanses

where new life bursts in tips of greens, light hues of lime, emerald, and kelly,

tiny worlds of botanic survival

blasted by asphalt in the middle, a strip of man-made dominance

once traveled only by hardened feet, wagons, horses and mules.

 

I can almost hear the whispers and whinnies of history,

padded footsteps of Mohave.

Now

automobiles, trucks, and semis hurl down the road

busting through the mysterious air where whirlwind chaser and solitude reign.

 

We roll forward for hours and hours, almost all day.

People drive in pods, in packs,

a slow one in the left lane,

makes me clench my jaw tighter,

please let me through.

I don’t want to be in a pack when I drive.

 

I glance at each driver  wondering where they are going,

what have they lived? What is their story?

White haired couples with out-of-state plates look like they have been on the road for years,

their children, grandchildren and relatives all moved away,

and they don’t want to sit at home

wondering who the new great grandchild  resembles.

 

I could hardly rouse myself from an early morning dream of people everywhere, people all over the place, walking, sleeping.

Then I  am in an elevator going up towards the sky.

I am looking into

the eyes of the children as we ascend.

The earth is far below us.

 

The city is packed with traffic, a little family is out walking.

Salty truck stops,neighborhoods, ghost towns, sprawling suburbs…so many people.

What are their hopes and dreams?

 

A bride clutches her dress and walks through the hotel lobby,

and  a moment later

we got lost, my man and I

in a heated conversation, only from exhaustion filtering out from our pores.

I just need to see their faces once again and smell the softness of families.

We come down off the mountain

and out of the desert

to civilization.

My God, the traffic!

 

Author:

I'm a writer, artist, and spiritual intuitive. Illustrated journals are my passion and I've been journaling since childhood. I believe in the power of sharing stories together. Working on a memoir.

4 thoughts on “Easter Musings

  1. “Tiny worlds of botanic survival” have had to give way to all that traffic. I like the irony of coming down from the plateau and the traffic to civilization. I’m not sure which is which.

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