The desert is a solitary place
Solitary in the horizontal sense.
Silent, but for the lifting of needles
From branches and the lifting of
California Raven’s wings.
I am not sure I had ever known
In the desert, the vibrations that
Even in the “quiet” moments in the city,
Do not exist.
There are no electric connections
Beating a constant and dissonant
Instead, the desert
Between a symphony of breeze,
Flying insects and the
Strands of my hair playing
Major keys as they lift from
And are tossed back against the sides
Of my face.
The desert is a solitary place—but only
Vertically, it is a place of deep connection.
Connection between nature and God.
Between man and God.
Between me and God.
He gifted me at birth with an
Eye for beauty.
Beauty in nature, especially.
The colors, textures, compositions and
Shapes in nature will
Pierce my eyes
And sink into my soul
More quickly than any other beauty
Art, music, poetry, language—they all
Resonate from nature—
Nature: God’s hand in the glove of science,
Painting His creation
And speaking to us through it.
The God of science and creativity
Connects us with both
Red desert dust that we can hold
And the wind that swirls
Through the green and yellow inhabitants
That color the land on which we stand—
That which we can hold and
That which we cannot
The God of science formed us from this dust
And the same God breathed His creative life into us.
And so, the desert is a place of solitude
A place where the work of our human hands is revealed
As mere reflection of what He
Has already wrought.
Here, we are small—
Not inconsequential because we are His—
But small, because
Here, in the desert,
We can see that we are but an infinitesimal
Shape on the canvas of both space and time:
A grand and vibrant
Composition that has been,
Is and will continue to tell His story.
-copyright Jill Szoo Wilson
(Written at the Wukoki Pueblo in the Painted Desert, Arizona. 10/31/18)