Desert Moon by Stephen Jarrell Williams

Facing the wind
A whispering low whistle past my ears
Shadow of my cross behind me

I am dead
To this surrounding world
Dying since I was born

But living the adventure
More than most
And still not enough

I am here in the desert
Licking the sand from my lips
Long hair like a beat Sampson

Buried up to my neck
My sins as the sand
Weighting me down
Still trying to dig out of this grave

The night sky filled with clusters of stars
Witnesses to my thirst

Alone
After so much time spent in the gathering crowd
Loners and self edifiers
Hanging on
To tall peaks of illusion
Not knowing how far the fall would be

I let go a long time ago
A swan dive
Down through swirling dreams of transparent ghosts
Voices calling me
My mother crying
My father yelling
My wife pleading about things I didn’t understand
My children applauding

Electrifying the fall
A flying death drop
Mouth open

I hit earth
Her marshmallow breasts

And here I am
Just missing her gaping throat to a deeper place

Praying not for rain
But for someone with a saving shovel
To dig me out
Or cover me over.

Stephen Jarrell Williams loves to write in the middle of the night with a grin and grimace and flame in his heart. He is the editor of Dead Snakes at deadsnakes.blogspot.com