Affection for the Desert

She went to a Benedictine Monastery in New Mexico, 
called the Monastery of Christ in the Desert,
and sent me a medallion of Benedict, 
an amber cross and several photographs 
of desert life, but, of course, I live 
in a semi-arid desert and the photographs
looked fairly similar, desert poppies, cacti, 
sagebrush, and, still, I wished Id been there 
with her; wished Id photographed 
dried chillies on a backstreet near the plaza, 
wished Id roamed through Pueblo architecture;
through the narrow passageways 
and hidden courtyards of Santa Fe, New Mexico.
I live in the rolling high desert hills 
nestled in the Thompson Nicola Valley.  
Some locals say the bare-earthed brown hills 
represent the northernmost point 
of the Mohave Desert.  I know the look 
of Sagebrush Mariposa Lily, and the Prickly Pear Cactus. 
I know the feel of this strange, small, 
semi-arid desert, wild sunflowers in May, 
blooming sagebrush covering the hills in autumn.
When she went to the Sahara Desert in Morocco
she sent me a postcard when she got to Fez 
describing the Sahara as a sea of sand, 
describing a caravan of camels,
noting she had seen the worlds largest desert,
and I closed my eyes and saw her riding a camel
with a slight, Moroccan named Barrah.
She wrote how he wanted her to come hide 
with him behind a sand dune because he wanted
to kiss her, touch the blondeness of her hair, 
the paleness of her skin, trace the blue veins 
over her arms.  I sent her a letter to San Sebastian
in Spain where it waited for her for over a month, 
and described the second desert Id seen 
when I was thirteen in Carcross, worlds smallest desert, 
once a glacial lake.  Pine trees growing on the outskirts 
of sand dunes, remembered my surprise at discovering  
one lonely cactus.  Told her how I love the desert
because it bakes everything raw, burns the worst out of you,
cleans you to the bone, leaves you nothing to cling to,
nowhere to hide, and when you never expect it,
when you have given everything up doesnt God
come to you then, with manna, with promises,
with an oasis of palm trees, fruit, nectar, water, peace.

© Heather Simeney MacLeod