The Dead Places

Sand. Stone. You could be a desert rat
and be happy
with the barren landscapes and broad skies.
Content to look across the sand
the way you look across your past,
at the empty spaces, the dead places,
happy with your shade and your spring
of the here and now.

About this poem

I have been thinking about loss the past few days. All the things lost in my life. It is quite the list. Thinking not in a morbid way, but in a thankful for now way. At times, I feel like here, now, I am living in an oasis.

Still, you never forget the dead places.

Tom

PS: The picture was taken in Nevada.