i take it upon myself
to search for god
out in the desert
that vast expanse of
flat land running out to
the mountains and eventually
meeting the sky makes me wish
i had wings
but all i have are these
shaking hands and the
worn boots on my feet
and out in the desert
i will dig in the warm dirt
until those shaking hands
of mine bleed, and
my knees bruise
maybe if i dig deep enough,
for long enough,
i’ll find what still scrapes
against the softest parts
of me
and maybe the sun that
beats down upon me,
the driving rains that
slake my thirst,
will know how to find what
it is that i seek
but maybe god isn’t out
there in the desert, among the
cactus and cowboys and
that snarling wild thing that
still lives in my chest
there will be no lonely
little whitewashed church that
i will worship at, no pews for
me to kneel upon and confess
the sins of loving too much
and too loud
nay, my love, my heart,
there is only your hand in mine,
that sparkle in your sea-glass eyes,
and the rumble of your laugh
like thunder over the course sands
of this poet’s heart of mine that you
are slowly dotting with flowers