I'm in a very sharing mood for some reason tonight. This is by no means a finished project, but I thought I'd put it out in the world before I go back to work on it. I'm leaving home in a week, but I'm not sure it's really home anymore. This has been causing me a not insignificant amount of doubt and nerves, so I wrote about it. I hope you all enjoy.
"How can a place I claim is my cage be so damn beautiful? I lie awake every night listening to the coyotes laugh and can only think the desert drove them mad. They were so beautiful so late at night but with dawn they slide away into hills that crumble apart beneath my fingers. My version of grass is weeds when I'm here, and I want to think it's ugly. I want to see all the bad and none of the good because that would make leaving an easy, simple task.
Leaving is never easy when life has been tinted by shades of brown and gray. That sagebrush smell has creeped its way into everything. My car reeks of serenity after rain. My eyes match the grey of small leaves that weep with the blood of our settlers and the lives they took, although they never admitted it was a human splayed across the dirt. Just another threat to rub back into the desert wild.
If only it were black and white I could merely hate this place I no longer wish to call home. Sage roots are deep and twisted into hearts like wire. They are no easier to remove than the longing I feel for those hottest and driest of days. That blistering heat sinks into my soul and my heart beats all that much stronger for it. I hate myself for my love. I hate this place for its beauty. I hate so I may forget, and I hate to feel some form of distance that long drives cannot provide.
I accept coyote's madness as my own.
I run to other deserts only to be pulled back by the mountain's call. I shake in my bed and smooth dirt over the cracks in my heart. Are they caused by the people or the place? I can't tell anymore. We all knew it was time to lose touch but that makes it no less easy. I look back on these people I used to know, people who never knew me, and laugh with the wild dogs in my backyard.
It's time to move on and run wild with another pack. Instincts mean more than a heart's desire so I follow them away from my nest. I fly on dark pavement, weighed down with thoughts of houses on hilltops and the small leaves on sage, but still I fly on. Heartache and fear are my growing pains, and I can only hope they'll never disappear. True passion cannot reside where our bodies lay to rest, and dreams don't take the form of where we are, only where we strive to be. It's time to find myself out in the sands of the southwest, in the crashing waves of undiscovered beaches. I already find saltwater in my tears and wonder if it's enough to draw the tide to me.
If home is where the heart resides then no place is my home. I have my beautiful cage in the peeling blue paint of my childhood, I have the temporary love of a desert home full to the brim of untapped knowledge, I have the creeping greens over ancient stone walls far in the distance. I do not have a home."
Still very much a work in progress, but so far I'm happy with what I've got. This is the kind of thing I crank out in a single night when I'm feeling particularly creative.