You're the Reason I ...

Wednesday prompt: Write a poem on 'You're the reason I (blank).' You decide what the blank is and who the 'you' is.

I'm late with this one. Didn't get it written until Sunday; then had to let it sit awhile after much tweaking, before I could see if there was more work to be done.


I think of a strange desert,
and you’re the reason.
Wild wolves and coyotes
lurk outside your cave.
The dog-wolf you claimed as protector
cowers beside you, afraid.
But you are not afraid.

You write of wandering,
of meeting the earth
on the earth’s terms.
(I steal your words
that entered my head
with the force of truth.)
You are learning, you say,
in small steps.

Beyond the far edge
of the vast Pacific
and further, deep inland,
you sit at a public computer
on a brief visit to town.
Time is short, but you find
enough to send one message.

Here in Australia
the desert is harsh.
It kills people.
Strangers it kills quickly.
We’re taught early:
“Don’t leave the road.
And if you break down,
don’t leave the car.”

There are no wolves
and very few caves.
This is no country for wandering.
How can I imagine where you are?
You mention a mountain, a stupa.
You plan a pilgrimage.

You’re the reason I play
with these contrasts,
waiting today for customers
at my stall in a cold market.
The wind-chill defeats
the clear sky, the climbing sun
bright silver through the trees.

I huddle in my jacket
of black wool,
pulling it around me closer.
The last of the summer tourists
went home weeks ago.
The locals, with dazed faces,
totter past in the wind.
It’s not a buying day.

You’re not the only reason
I’m dreaming of heat
and other places!
But you are the reason
I turn in my dreams
to an unfamiliar corner
of New Mexico.

And I think you move and travel
in the country of your soul –
as I in my tropics, despite
the shock of even a short winter,
am also right at home.
Yet, you’re the reason I wonder
what other lives and dreams may be,
what landscapes unexplored.

15/6/08