Originally written Sunday, December 21, 2008
I aim for the mountains ahead,
Passing by blood-red Ocotillo blossoms,
Held up against the snowy, white heights,
They become the framework of my thoughts.
They have held back their beauty for years;
The time of the drought is now over.
Miles beyond, the snow whispers to the sky,
Making it blush deep colors.
We all change, we all bend towards
The sun, whatever the season.
With permission granted, I am moving forward.
I am leaving the desert, running like winter
to a land where I am no longer a refugee,
but a woman who can walk in freedom.
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