There’s no question where I am. The sun is goes from warm to hot and the sand reflects more than just light with deception and fake promises. Visions line my mind's eye, a day I will finally find a well so deep that I can pump all the water to live off of for the next decade. One that can soak the ground of my garden to blossom all the organic vegetables my heart desires to use in mid-day smoothie. So until I find that well, I continue to walk in this desert with my rod. I watch myself search with shadow as an ally.
Maybe it is time to give up my search as this consistency is starting to wear on my body. My skin is burnt, my hair is dry and my lungs are full of dust. I am no succulent with thick skin as the competition for what little water exists is tough and it might be time to refuel. To go somewhere that is cool and has water that rests still. Not where it is scarce and a goldmine if found, brought forth between minerals and pooling underneath clay.
It’s time to leave this soft ground and sacrifice what little structure I built, the tarp can be used to hold together my belongings. For being aware of this situation is really the hardest part. This is a place where time seems to stop as seasons do not exist. So I must leave on my own terms to make this work. For this control of an exit is key for what I want to do, running out of water will lead me to dehydrate and go mad with mirages. Vision's that I begin to chase- a 4 bedroom house in the hills- than seeing my 1 shopping cart full of decent possessions.Therefore I must keep what little water I have left to use along my journey, to then wash my hands and face upon arrival.
Here comes a cab through this desert stretch. I wave my arm and readjust my belongings on my shoulder.
“Somewhere lush.” He nods.
As the cab drives away from where I stood I look through the rear window. Some would say I never stood a chance but I would answer that the fact I am able to stand and call this cab is enough for me. For I can see myself going back to that spot to continue my search. To one day using a better technique on how to find that well. One that requires patience and determination than just hope and intuition. For like the ground the mind over time gets stiff if it doesn’t grow life. So as I leave to get my mind's ground ready and finding the proper tools I realize, it’s never a good plan to simply wait for rain.
Trista Hurley-Waxali just finished a stint living in LA for 6 years and is looking forward to her next adventure. She has performed at Avenue 50, Stories Bookstore and internationally at O’bheal in Ireland and for Helsinki Poetry Connection. She writes weird short stories and is working on her novel, At This Juncture.