Sometimes the Desert

Sometimes the Desert

(“But you were unwilling to go up. You rebelled against the command of the Lord your God.” Deuteronomy 1:26)

The drive is too far, the desert cold;
the needles bite the sky and capture the clouds in their teeth.
How quiet the pain when mountains crowd the horizon;
but it shouts when the road becomes too full of ghosts.


We leave one giant to face another. We hope to leave the effort behind.
For more than the best of us, and careful for the rest of us, they loom after one hour’s nap at a midlevel rest stop.

The rest is never our final destination, another winter wind whips the sand in our face.
Crossways it captures our coats and our hats and tosses them into the desert alone.
We stand at the edge of designated borders, feet obedient to the signs and fences.
It does not enter our minds to seek another passage.But we have come too far, resigned our bridges, retired our employment and
vacated our tents a long time ago. To return from our turning only postpones
the new land of promise. But we fear. 

So we wake the next morning, manage our pain, and venture on the next leg
that leads us closer to anonymous towns where life is larger, names are sharper,
roads are confusing and the earth harder than before. 

How do we face the giant when it was the giant we thought we had left behind?
When pain is the master, the driver and the passenger, even pebbles threaten the
passage of time. 

Sometimes faith is not having a choice. Sometimes forward is the only gear left.
Sometimes the corner forces you out into the cold. Sometimes the desert opens your eyes.