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The woman I am is buried somewhere

The woman I am is buried somewhere inside.

I see her on dirt roads

and highways unending.


Cross-country in the desert,

high on the mountain

and low atop the mesa.


I find her in the barking of coyotes and the sway of a yucca.

Orientating by sun on a backwoods trail,

and camping… well, camping everywhere.


She is there when skin touches skin.

In the cupping of a jawline

and the pull under fresh sheets.


She brings me confidence.

She is the only real source of it after all.


And when the itch becomes too great,

becomes unbearable,

we go –

she and I.


Into the wilderness,

the desert. In the saddle.

Up the mountain.


Back to the place we belong.

The place we thrive.

Lost in the hum of this earth,


as naked as a desert ridge.

She reminds me who I am

and together, we are better because of it.


It took me half a lifetime to find her.



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