There’s a certain Slant of light
has been running through my head.
of course, she was talking about winter and it is summer in my hemisphere.
I am not going to paste the photo of the Arizona morgue in this entry. However, if you want to see the body bags containing the dead that tried to cross the border and died in the desert click HERE.
I saw this photo in the morning, before yoga practice. I do mysore, which means I determine and drive the practice myself. Somehow, when working on handstands on an elevated set of PVC pipes (don’t ask…) the image was there. I was enveloped by all of those bags.
And by the sense of the desert south of Tucson.
Your fever is spiking now…your will is slipping…Your tongue is wood/You dream of pools, seas, you dream of a lake
I felt the desert and the detritus and the wind that blew the plastic and caused the socks hanging on barbed wire to shift. I also smelled the desert. It smelled good and was beautiful and there were the footprints of the dead right in front of me.
The foot prints criss crossing the tracks of the creatures. In that place where people regularly die of heat prostration in their attempt to cross north, there used to be more sympatric North American quail species than in any other locale in the world. Of course, the masked bobwhite has not been seen there, as of my last visit in 2009, for years. There is a current attempt to reintroduce the species.
The birds, the vanished birds, the detritus–a boot, an empty water bottle, an opened can, a piece of plastic, an old battery–the silence the space.
I am walking
quotes are from Emily Dickinson and Luis Alberto Urrea