January 7, 2017
Fort Sumner, New Mexico
In the end
The air is crystalline and the silence is as deep as the cold. There is a stillness which comes with the frozen air which cannot be captured in words or even feelings. It is instead a sense of things, an instinctive embrace of the unknowable. You become an integral part of the whole rather than a separate being. It is as if you too are frozen stiff as the blades of grass and the frost in the air and are as unmovable as they are. It is only in such instances when our spirits can truly soar for we are removed from the physical and instead become the celestial beings which we truly are. Our bodies become but a vessel for the experience, separate from anything of what we are truly comprised of. You might question how this is so but how else can we soar on the wings of the raven as he passes silently overhead, the whoosh of his wings silenced by the peacefulness.
I have felt this so deeply that I can summon it from my desk here in front of the fire, though it begs for me to join it. I may well have to take my truck and drive out on some snow covered two track to relive it. I may even have to go now, before it slips away and I reawaken from this dream memory which has returned in full force. I am in fact far distant from my desk at this moment and have no desire to break the spell. There are some things we cannot even put into words, and yet they burst forth in torrents onto the page. This then is true poetry, spontaneous, joyful, leaping across the paper, or screen, with the same exuberance as a child running across the yard!
I keep a picture on my wall of a small boy leaping, captured in midair as he runs. He reminds me of the joy of life itself which returns to me now in an instant, negating anything else that might intrude upon it. How else might one share such a feeling or experience, except to put it to words, by ones’ self. I can retreat to it in an instant by simply looking out my window at the snow covered prairie. I have to ask myself what else there is I need. There are no words, for that.
I think this is what I love the best about the plains, even more than the mountains. There is something about the endless sweep of the earth with so few interruptions which carries my heart to new heights. Just days ago I was looking at a picture a friend had posted and thought of the same. There were two cowboys with their horses, and a small fire, sheltered in one of the many small draws as one finds on the prairie. There was a trickle of water behind them, much as can be found here so close by. I told him, “I wish I was there.” He replied, “You already are.” I considered that and realized that in fact, I am. As with so many other wonders of my life I tend to forget those things. They are not taken for granted, they are simply a constant. I am there, as close as I have been in a long time. Better yet, I intend to stay!
There is a reason God put me on this hilltop. He has, once again, elevated my spirit. There are then, words, for that. Thank you and amen!