Thoughts on Leaving Phoenix for the First Time

I.
It's a cold July night at the airport,
I can hear the chill in the wires
As voices try to pull forth solace
From cell phones, like puppets
Without masters—the waiting to leave.

II.
I can finally breathe like a human being,
And smell the actual scent—
A cactus blossom before it rains.

III.
Everything watches me, all I can't see.
The creatures adjust to my presence,
And make me adjust to my presence too.

IV.
Black mesquite, the willow of the wash,
Like a grandmother's hand that says
"It's always all right, you did the best you could."

V.
Sajuaros, wise filters of the desert,
They point, they lean, they gesture
—And everyone leaves them alone—
So they don't have to think of it.

VI.
Palo verde and wren, wren and palo verde—
They express each other constantly,
One seen and rarely heard,
One heard and rarely seen.

VII.
The green flames of Ocotillo
What love burning looks like,
No lights on Christmas trees
Can do this justice.

VIII.
Blue bursage changes the desert floor
To lilac, and glows in the dark,
And in Spring turns the valley to a million dandelions
Glowing back at the sun.

IX.
A playground in the middle of the wilderness,
A jackrabbit sleeping under a seesaw,
Eyes ever open.

X.
One can only get lost, never hidden.

XI.
The wind brings silence—
I can hear my heart beating,
And can hear the joy within the joy
Of the birds I listen to.

XII.
The ancient world comes in some gusts,
The sea air, too, but it's never enough
When I know the furnace bellows
Aren't far behind
To heat my spirit past the bones.

XIII.
Each step and I'm connected
To the center of the Earth,
No matter where I go, it's like
An optical illusion, except it's real,
And I remember how the Hopi said
Man first emerged from Canyons.

XIV.
Every inch of Arizona land is sacred,
And each spot speaks and breathes with me,
Guiding me to safety, telling me I'm safe,
Letting me wander so I know I'm already there.
It keeps me alive in the moment to remind me
I can go on forever
In any direction.