In the desert the landscape
is stark. Vastness swallows
my soul into great nothingness.
Did I make the right decision?
Another voice pleads,
“Please do not give up on me yet!”
I feel the wind rush around me. It chills
me, whispering of frailty
and life. Or death. My soul
enveloped in dark.
I desire to lie down in the sagebrush
and die in the pungent scent.
I hear the mantra: I am fearless
in the face of any
and all challenges.
It floats into the fog. My brain grasps the words
as the cloak begins
to fall. as if for the first time,
I see the start beauty.
My soul begins to sing
the song of courage.
[originally published in Peculiar a queer literary journal
volume two issue two peculiarjournal.com]