Sundown in the Desert

The final sliver of a sunken ruddy sun
Contracts to leave a single point beyond the distant sand.

Refracted rays through atmospheric channels run

Then fade to purple darkness glazed above the rocky land.

The press of heat is quieted. Its throbbing hum is done,

And coldness quickly overtakes the sparsely covered ground.

The temperature precipitously drops –

A pebble fallen from a rugged cliff without a sound.

I stand upon the barren mountaintops

With hopes to hear angelic voices sing,

Or is that sheer, suggestive silence just the wind

Whistling past my eardrums as they ring?

Does God reside where life dare not?

Do strangers in this unrelenting land

Arrive in peace at their intended spot,

Or are they lost and led astray to stand

Amid the dangers and mirages of the desert sand?

Yet something moves beneath the stars,

And something sinks its roots into the soil.

Life persists, as if in fragile, sacred jars,

To face the fearsome landscape and its harsh anointing oil,

And so will I – persisting through the night

To search for you until the sun will bathe my soul in light.

This poem doesn't really come from recent physical experience, though I did spend two very brief stints in Arizona (Tucson and Tempe) earlier this year, and I enjoyed seeing the desert landscape beyond each city. Rather, I think at least some of the poem's inspiration comes from a book I read several years ago by Belden C. Lane called The Solace of Fierce Landscapes: Exploring Desert and Mountain Spirituality. Apparently, that book is still working its way through my mind.