Soul of a Desert Woman by Mary Reynolds Thompson

She walks in fire,

through fire,

treads cracked earth with bare feet.

Silence and spaciousness are her companions.

Born of sand, rock, dust,

she needs no pool to see her own reflection.

Garbed in gold by day, at night she shimmers by starlight.

In her presence snakes curl up like kittens.

She defies plough and planter, knows she is enough.

A desire to let go of all that is not hers to carry

has fashioned in her something real.

Prickly as cactus,

cracked and half-crazed,

her fierce tongue and sharp wit suffer no fools.

She is intensity and immensity.

She has seen through the mirage,

all the way to the horizon.

To look into her eyes is to know the truth.

(C) Mary Reynolds Thompson