BY JAN HAAG
ARIZONA DESERT
I walked off the highway,
back behind the beer-bottle line,
among the rabbit tracks and the sidewinder trails,
back in the winter sand -- barefoot --
looking out for miles, beyond eternity
and the grey hills bronzed by the setting sun,
in the wind and the silence, wishing we were gone
and our shacks had fallen to ruin
so our grandchildren could hear tales
of the settlers who tried to make it here
when the land was still untamed,
and who left
because they didn't want to make a garden
out of the grandeur of God's desert
or an oasis out of the sand.
People are not the only owners of the land,
nor trees the only expression of God --
so are devil's claw and the tumbleweed,
the creatures of night and the big-horned sheep.
The whip-tailed lizard sticks out his tongue
at our presumption to garnish the land.
He laughs when our wells run dry
and the moon sets from an empty sky.
Copyright © 2000 Jan Haag
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Jan Haag may be reached via e-mail: jhaag@u.washington.edu
I Am Innuit
McDonald Observatory
BY JAN HAAG