October 9, 2003
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Revelator
Today I found myself telling people about New Mexico. I feel like I’ve kept my wanderlust hidden away from everything for as long as I can recall, and even possibly from myself; when the idea vocalized itself and fell out of my mouth, I was almost suprised at the taste of it.
I don’t quite know where or when it began. I used to draw pictures of red-orange canyons and mesas when I was younger, and the landscapes must have grown from there in my mind. And then I was there, standing in the shadow of the rocks, and I filled my papers with stories about my rambles there, in that place I had dreamed from nothing. I found a secret name there, and made up people I might know, and imagined someone I might love. And on days I felt like it could never be real I remember the worst heartache, worse than being alone, worse than being lost.
I made a lover’s prayer
Then watched the sky
Then wanted to cry
S’ only you and I
And how I try
I made a lover’s prayer…
Help me rise above
What I’m thinking of
Just a little more love
I made a lover’s prayer
Whenever I listen to Gillian Welch I think about the dreams I have, of the eroded sand banks clung with wiry sage, and the blue chiaroscuro mountains holding up the clearest skies I’ve known. There is a rolling sound there, like a thought that spreads itself in the dust, and winds itself around the curves and the valleys….. I want to set my feet in the earth and feel the sun on my skin again. It’s the deepest lust I’ve ever known.
It follows me around every day, and the vision wraps itself around me when I feel the farthest away. This morning was clear and damp and cold, 8am on a brisk october day, and as I was walking down the street It touched me again, trying to be something real. So i found myself talking about it later, as if I were trying to make it real by putting it into someone else’s mind, and promising reality I could make it happen.
Another day gone, another day nearer. Pack up my things, and head west. It will emerge.
