Spirits in the Desert


In the Aravaipa Canyon, twigs dance ballet &

white butterflies circle desert blooms.

All day, wind grabs a flag & plays the music

of a blazing fire.

At dusk, Mescal’s green & yellow feather shapes jumped

from behind closed eyes,

imprinted themselves on the night sky as

Horus,Krishna, Isis. . .

Has the world always been so alive?

Has fire always caressed ribs of wood

in honeycomb shapes?

So many spirits in the desert and

“O-ee wa tay   Oeeeoeeeewaaatay”

is their song.

The owl cries above me,

reminding me that

home is within.



About Lightning Heart (Vikara)

Nomad. Poet. Philosopher. Teacher. View all posts by Lightning Heart (Vikara)

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