• Karen Weber

Pedernal

Updated: Dec 7, 2020



When I came, I stood upon a cliff,


red in the dying light, then fell,


pushed over the edge with laughter.


I sailed through the air


like a cloth doll with moving limbs


and no mouth behind cotton lips.


I fell below enflamed cliffs,


prehistoric plains, blending rocks,


descending arroyos and sudden mesas.


It has taken me years to find again


the magenta of the sunset


and azure of the winter sky.


Now I live here, standing on high desert ground,


with scarred and snow-topped mountains surrounding,


the blood of sacrifice in their names.


Now I sometimes wake at night


and sense around me ghosts


with belts of stones and seeded beads.


They come silently,


like the snow this morning,


falling in frozen tears on the burning earth.

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