Perhaps, if there is reincarnation,
it could have been 1975
the last time we were alive,
wandering the Arizona desert
ready to discover what’s bigger
and beyond the swamp jungle
I grow up in today.
We were young and learning, but
I explained that we must never try
to escape the era of “why”. You laughed
as I grabbed handfuls of sand,
dry and untouched
by humidity, along the side of the road,
watching me high from just being
a stranger to a cactus.
So in the past,
we probably sat on the hood of our car
because I wanted to gaze at the sunset
peak at us behind an orange plateau
thinking aloud about how and when it emerged
and what took us so long to find the new world,
the life they pass by with a glance.
Finally, hopping off the car, we concluded
it’s nothing but God,
God who asked us to preserve it all
with our power and you watched
as I started to believe again
as we drove away.
Today, we never visited.
But I want to believe with you again so badly,
amid the bad news in human nature.