Food in the Desert

Food in the Desert

Betsy K. Brown

I. Mohave Connector Psalm

Lord, unsettle the dust
inside my song.
My hands are swollen
from hanging low too long.
Show me every switchback
as a palm to raise;
Show me every trail as
a throat swept with praise.


II. Wondering About My Runaway Brother

I lay on the hillside again, squinting for a glimpse of you.
The horizon slopes in a half-smile
like a teacher who knows the end of the book.
Are you asleep, a cigarette
between tight lips of earth and sky?


III. Mountain Rain

We wake before dawn to you tapping
On our tents. Knuckles of wet against canvas. You slip
Inside our barely-unzipped doors. We shrink
At your touch, forgetting we welcomed you
As guest by sleeping in a thin place


IV. Spirit

I love what You weave too much.
I hang Your tapestries
On the cold castle walls of my heart.
But You call me to love
Your invisible hands. I am still
Learning how to cherish what I cannot
Touch.

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Betsy K. Brown
Poet & Teacher

Betsy has been published in Circe Institute, Relief Journal, AWP’s The Writer’s Notebook, and Curator Magazine. She is also a monthly columnist for the Institute for Classical Education. You can read more of her work at betsykbrown.com

Photography by Ashley McKinney