Sanctuario de Chimayo
by Ardith Brown
Amid fine dust and cool sweat of damp adobe,
crutches and canes lean on burnt sienna walls.
We walk as cottonwood fluff floats airborne;
pilgrims sip Diet Cokes, their journey complete,
uncompromised by lack of penitence, faith.
In Espanola low riders pump hydraulic rhythms.
Blake’s Lottaburger green chile cheeseburgers
spit fresh grease on the grill . Hungry travelers
heading North to Colorado won’t make the right turn.
To the west, the swollen Rio Grande roils as rafters
navigate rapids, cameras dashed on merciless rocks.
The high road to Taos twists through villages and
farms as weavers weft flaws in each rug, fearful of
perfection. Tourists look for error where the artist looks
for god. Lilacs blossoms reach stippled and pink to red
sun, sinking low like a ship over mesas and event
horizon lines in the distance. Scorpius rises bright in
the east, shiny tail ready to strike– tiniest prick of skin,
tickle of stinger a now welcomed pain to the once
numbed.
I collected the holy dirt in a small pillowcase and pocketed my
disbelief in hopes of a cure for love’s grand deceptions.
Separations writ like fresh inked tattoos: fish and lotus flowers
mixed in new bright colors until turquoise and yellow stain empty
skin. Indelible. You left me to survive in the desert, forgetful of
yearly blooming cactus fruit sweet and moist on the lips. I
swallow water in slow sips as if to savor wine or chocolate,
flavors rich like a billionaire hoarding candy, or a nun collecting
beads. Like a tarot reader fingers cards. So knock me down you
stupid wind. Waste my angry eyes back to ash and lay me out in
the sanctuary, scatter handfuls of myself in the Sangre de
Christos, ford the gentle stream on the log I left for you, a path to
certainty, a road free from want. Let me cherish the air. I return
to nothing, peaceful like the June breeze that haunts this magic
place.
Ardith Brown received her BA from the University of New Mexico and an MA in Literature from the University of Houston. She holds a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Nonfiction and is currently working on a collection of poems and essays. Her experience as a writer, teacher, and advocate have kept her busy since moving to Baltimore from Georgia three years ago.
