Sometimes the desert calls me
Speaking to me in molecular tones
Illuminating a future that will never exist
And a past I can hardly grasp
But I do have memories...
Stories of gila monsters and horny toads,
Tarantulas and vinagroons
And arid earth baked hard in the sun
She whispers to me on winds
Telling me about
Old superstitions and Apache ancestors
But I am not invited
To sit in their circle
Still, I hear their resolve
In my brown skin
And feel them in the taste of fried sopapillas
And prickly pear jam
And I savor the sensation
Of heritage
This is my response to the poetry cubes prompt. The idea is to use a word inspired by each cube in the poem. I struggled a bit with this one. The pliers really threw me for a loop, but I think it ultimately led me to where I needed to be.
This poem is about the desert region where my mom lives and where she grew up in the southeastern US. This is mainly split between Arizon and New Mexico. I spent many summers in both places. Both areas are deserts but they are not technically the same desert. The title is a play on the title for the Novel Bless Me Ultima which was written about the area where my family is from. And Sonora is the name of the desert that spans parts of Northern Mexico, California and Arizona.
Let me know your thoughts. Also let me know if any of the bolded words confuse you. I definitely stretched some of the possible meanings.
Here's the poem again with emojis for the references:
Sometimes the desert🌵 calls me
Speaking to me in molecular tones
Illuminating💡 a future that will never exist
And a past I can hardly grasp🔧
But I do have memories...
Stories📘 of gila monsters and horny toads,
Tarantulas and vinagroons
And arid earth baked hard in the sun
She whispers to me on winds⛵
Telling me about
Old superstitions♠️ and Apache ancestors
But I am not invited
To sit🪑 in their circle
Still, I hear their resolve
In my brown skin
And feel them in the taste of fried sopapillas 🍕
And prickly pear🍌jam
And I savor the sensation
Of heritage
Beautiful and inspiring. Even though we sometimes feel excluded from our own history or feel that the past is unattainable, our heritage lives on within us: in the color of our skin, in the food we love, and in the way the wind of our land makes us feel.
You took me to another world. I have never had such experience of the weather and environment. It's great!
I think the usage of bold letters is fine, it is for emphasis
Your poem beautifully captures the deep connection between memory, heritage, and the desert’s silent voice. It speaks to the way the land and its stories live within us all, whispering of ancestors and traditions, even when we are not physically part of their circle. Your words remind me of the enduring strength and richness of our roots, and the beauty of carrying our heritage in every breath.