The green iguana on my wall

has closed his eyes as if asleep

or lost in some ancient jungle reverie

sky and wind moving over primordial waters

days without end in the canopy of the rain forest

I have come to this desert

alone

slipping quietly across the border

from another state of mind

Watching the Sonoran sun set

my eyes follow a white-winged dove

to its nest in a palo verde

During the night

monsoon rains move in from Mexico

in my dreams you are always alive

you call to me across the arroyo

but the wind steals your words

I try to speak

but twenty years of goodbyes

have left me with nothing to say

A man in shackles measures his step

against the chains that hold him

and learns to move within his limitations

We are pilgrims finding our way

learning the lesson the turtle teaches

to the fish

Sadness borrows my soul

I lost myself even before I lost you

 

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