Gazebo

Published on by geriatric pilgrim

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“We are saved in the end by the things that ignore us.”— Andrew Harvey

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At the Spiritual Renewal Center in Arizona

I’m not feeling renewed spiritually or otherwise.

Dusty desert wind sears my lungs as I sit in 90° heat,

stuck to a faded plastic chair in a rundown gazebo—

rotting floor…peeling paint… broken railings—

good place, I think, for an octogenarian

with COPD, a weak heart. and arthritic joints.

Just six years ago I walked the nearby desert trails 

for miles past petroglyphs and rattlesnakes,

up rocky canyons and down sandy washes.    

This morning, I reached for my inhaler after 20 minutes 

and turned back feeling old and dilapidated.

Now, I sit in this decaying gazebo awfulizing about my future:

a sudden heart attack that strikes me down

before I can say good-bye to those I’ve loved, 

or a stroke which leaves me paralyzed and drooling 

while others change their lives to look after me,

or worse, dementia, unable even to say thank you for caring.

Which leads me to wonder: Will I be missed when I’m gone?

Certainly not by the flat cumulous clouds 

floating over the hills on the horizon

 or the wind through the prickly pear, cholla, barrel,

organ pipe and ocotillo cactus,

 not to mention the saguaro standing

with arms raised to the heavens,

 and certainly not by the coyotes 

barking from the copper-colored hills behind me, 

or the doves or cardinals or flycatchers or thrashers 

or warblers or wrens or quails,

nor, come to think of it, by the yellow blossoms

from the palo verdi  blowing in the desert wind, gilding

the rotten gazebo floor and my decrepitude 

with the golden certainty of new life. 

~

6 thoughts on “Gazebo”

  2. I don’t know you and have only read a few of your thoughts. But this I know. You are one of a kind. You filled a place in the universe at a certain time that no one else could. Not better or worse than any other, just unique for a purpose not necessarily recognized or valued by yourself or the multitudes. And you are part of the known and unknown and connected to all of it, like it or not. And if your or my or anyone’s last years strip us of ego, it’s like losing a mask, a pretend importance because none of us got a vote over who we were born to be. We aren’t dealt the same hand and we’re only accountable for the one we actually got in all the complexity of personality, intelligence, family, opportunities, era, etc. etc. etc. And losing what we value about ourselves isn’t necessarily a loss in the greater scheme of things and in the effects pleasant or unpleasant our losses have on others.

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      1. Just adding my hear-hear to Eileen’s insightful words above, Richard. Your poignant prose, including the words above, has touched me in a way no one else could have, my friend.

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  3. Hi Rick, Good to allow the dark side to be aired in the desert. You will be thought about and missed by all those whom you have touched with your introspective writings. Thanks, Cousin E

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