Tobacco hills and tangerine skies
painting my way across cold memories
with a heart, stoned and stowed away
Practicing the art of self-healing

Out west where gunslingers roam
if only in symbols and chatter
there’s order and beauty
and a place to get lost for a while

to practice the art of self-healing

I climb red rocks and see forever
Fear smells different here
Truth rings loud and clear
I leave room to find my way

and mend a wounded spirit

I think about what I want and what I need
as I walk along the high wire, carefree
I spy blood on the moon and know
I am not alone


photo: mine
prompts: #aprpad – day 12, #aprpad – day 14, #napowrimo – day 11, The Sunday Whirl, Sunday’s Whirligig