I hate how much the ground connects us.How the stones cradle the arches of my feet and how I can't forget the way their arms molded to bare skin under the gravity of the empty space on my shoulders.I don't want the help, but i know I need it.It's just hard to sit and not wonder about your independence when the topography shows where you use to walk amongst the highest contours and how it saturated in your bones.And when bones break so do we.Now I know it's only temporary, but I had just finished my prayers with the desert and how I promised I'd stop wondering about where the water from this dry lake ran to, or why anyone would want to leave when the dirt felt like home between my toes and I thought they could relate.You see, I told myself I'd keep my peace with the dust devils and live for now.I don't need to be an Arizona boy to know how what is left behind of the desert is carried forward by the wind.Do you think the Arctic can smell the venom in my bitter veins through miles of ocean lingering in the air? I guess I'll never know.The desert is known for a lot of things, but it does not quench a thirst for anything.If you're searching, try flipping over a few rocks.Pieces of the sunset will hide anywhere.You just don't know what you'll find.Somewhere to crawl out of when your the next broken skeletal creature left behind by both the wind and the desert.I hate the way the dust collecting in my broken bones are filling every system of my body with learning a different way to connect when I've only known cracked skin.The desert has opened me up like a canyon spilling the breath from the earth, or maybe that was just the air trapped in my lungs after falling from mountain tops escaping at the hand of the sun rays blade.So yeah, I hate how the ground connects us by making man from dust and woman from his broken ribs and somehow Fire is supposed to spark embers when the two grains meet again.I hate that when it's all said and done it's just dust to dust and ashes to ashes because the hieroglyphs engraved by the sun in our cracked skin only talk about eroding us until we have the courage to do it ourselves by grasping the cactus head with whatever sunset we found under desert rocks and letting what we know of water drip from the sparrows hole into serenity.You see, desert kids live from what we can scrounge, and I hate that broken bones can stop us,Because they can.And they'll be swept away just like everything else the desert doesn't wait on.So I guess this is what happens when you wonder to much.You become part of the mystery with the lake hoping for someone to wonder about you even when the highest contours no longer hold your feet.But in the end I hate that it's just dust to dust and ashes to ashes and broken is what gets left behind.I only know the desert in my prickly pear heart.I only know Arizona