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Color Us the Painted Desert

 

 

a service

 

God of the wilderness

God of the wildness

Except that we’d need kitchens

And bathrooms

And storage for our things

This is not camping

Not a hotel experience, we know

Where is the wilderness

On my street?

Maybe it’s out back

Maybe it’s the outfield at the school, which

Often feels a deserted place

I have too many things

For wilderness

Even if they got me

Some of them

To this place where inside-outside

I want there to be less

And in the open

A driveway sale for

Shriving

So I might have

A Lenten lifestyle

Of my own, for keeps

No takebacks

No giving as we gave to Indians,

Which is what that phrase means

 

Talk about the wilderness

I don’t care anymore

I’d rather draw a picture

Wish to throw myself inside

Wait for the sky I drew to move

The grass to bend

Pebbles from the pathway

Fall onto the table with the pencils

You tell me I don’t have to go

There are many things here

That indicate

That even point the way

Yes, I could visit

Then come back

Bring a few mementos, talk about

The cairn left behind

Though people shouldn’t make those

Somewhere else, anymore

It’s a process:

Read more

Talk with these people

Listen—always good advice

But I’m tired of suburban circles

The kind that form a wheel to nowhere

Really an excuse for coffee

And conversation about anything

And I’m glad to participate

 

I am missing one thing

Companionship

For the journey

I’d rather you came with me

Some say such things must always

Go alone

The spirit quest, the walkabout

Though the wolf we meet is not alone

Might wonder what I’m doing there

Before returning to the family

The pack

And loyalty

 

Well, where am I going, anyway

And how?

I am here where doorways rarely open

To the sky

Where quiet contemplation

Is a fiction when the neighbors start to yell

And drop things, heavily

Upon my spirit

God, I can be so tired

Couldn’t you pick me up

Maybe in an old blue car

Take my friend and me

If she says yes

And with your friends we go west

Or east

Or wherever

You live and keep a house

Of wood the trees knowingly gave

And where the wind sings gladly

Where all around we understand

At last

The wilderness

 

 

after benediction

 

Stay or return

Or take up somewhere else

Maybe we’ll have a pack

Talking about other things

Another way to live

There will be loyalty

Because it is the source of joy

Not a grim reality

Or fighting words

Respect, freedom, something

Of our own

The love of life no more forfending

We will laugh our way

Up the valleys, over mountaintops

Truly, modestly

Celebrating all

Because we’re pack

Because we’re family

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Pierre Bamin on Unsplash

Colour Cluster!