From anywhere in town you get a shot of the Cerrillos Hills to the west. They look dusty
and cragged, probably because black and gray shale is widely exposed across the
hills.
Standing in an empty parking lot this morning, studying
them, I thought, because of how ancient they are - the sense that they have been keeping watch for so, so long
- how they could be related to
something I sometimes feel inside my body when I am going through intense emotions
(terror, joy, grief…from the death of a loved one, a life-threatening situation,
love lost…)
- an eye that watches it all, extremely curious, thinking "oh,
this is interesting…"
I suppose I could put this down to detachment or
dissociation from the emotion, but that doesn't really do the sensation justice - because while this
"watching" is happening, I am still feeling the emotion burning through all
my cells…
And so, the new year's eve poem:
Eldorado, New Mexico,
New Year's Eve
Morning
Leaves scrape across an empty parking lot.
Purple, brown shades in the nearby brush. Faint tints of
red.
A rabbit waits beneath the brush, imitating the dead.
Across the flats, silhouette of the Cerrillos hills, cragged
and dark with shale, ancestors
of that part of us that
keeps endless vigil; a curious eye,
through fire, grief, fear, loss…
The dead leaves move towards me.
Wind rustles the rabbit's fur, my hair.
Winter's colors deepen.
********
Happy New Year!
