The other part, of course, is not the part that all of them
are so much a part of.
But it's the fact that we have other people that
come through that desert and that landscape.
And so, of course, here, those of us that live here,
are very much aware of it in different ways.
And especially the O'odham who live where they live.
So having that border cutting through the homeland.
And so there's mixed feelings about the whole situation.
And anyway, so I reflected on all of that as well.
And so I want to start with some pieces
about the people that come through.
And my point seems to always be that if you
walk through the desert, you have to know
how to walk through a desert.
You just can't pick up and decide to walk through a desert.
So anyway, I wrote from the viewpoint of the desert
in some cases.
So the first one is called Not The Intent of this Desert.
Each tiny blade of creosote leaf has
a memory of the people that have come through.
The sand absorbs the tears.
Nightmares sorrows of the walkers.
It muffles their cries.
No one can hear them.
This was never the intent of this desert.