This morning I was looking at a photograph of some Arizona Mesas. Many years ago I resided on the top of the Third Mesa while living on the Hopi Reservation in Arizona and fell in love with the scrapped and torn character of these red cliffs. Often, as I sat on the ridge of one mesa examining another across the valley floor I would compared them to of my own body and how in many ways I also was battered by the elements. This morning I particularly was feeling attached to these cliffs and wrote a Haiku and then some thoughts to go along with the poem and wanted to share them with you. I’m sorry I can’t attach the photo it is far lovelier than my poem.

Castle Rock

Weathered, scarred, time etched
Rising above earthly woes
Strong, bold, beautiful


I’m arrogant, for when I witness the spectacle of nature I can’t help but to infuse myself into its scenery. This self-importance is not formed by rising above others it is more of a reflection of sorts. Often, while taking in earth’s splendor, I ponder thoughts that erode my confidence like the howling winds that flick off grains of my own flesh then rasp it along my vulnerable walls.

My query?

When others have the occasion to look my way and learn of what formed my pock marks and overhangs what parts of me do they see? The natural self that was created whole now worn by the elements yet these very assaults are what makes me unique, possible beautiful? Or do they stand in judgment seeing only the chipped and broken bits and pieces lying at the base? Both views are accurate.

Earlybird,

Are both views accurate? I'd suggest that those who are viewing (and judging) only "the chipped and broken bits" are not seeing the fullness of who you are. Perhaps they lack the perception to see the fullness of other people because of their own immaturity or their own unresolved issues (Lord knows we all have them!) Or perhaps their judgments keep them from investing the time and effort and compassion it takes to begin to see another human being in his fullness, beauty and broken bits alike. Either way, they are missing out on something. Those of us who have had the privilege of getting to see you in your fullness know that quite well1

My wonderful friend Ischyros,

There could not be a more unusual pair to have become friends than you or me, a testament of sorts to how MS works. We’ve grown close over the last year and took the time to understand and admire our differences becoming allies in a real war against the damages caused by tangible, flesh and blood enemies.

One thing I’ve learned and stand in awe of you is how you flourish in the busy markets of humanity. I on the other hand draw strength and stability wondering with my own thoughts in what many view as the loneliness of the desert. I’m out of my element here and though I’ve struggled I’m simply too awkward to walk with others. I have had some success but the welcome mat at MS is too tiny or more likely my eyesight is just too skewed to read the letters correctly.

As to the above post, as the day has worn on I’ve realized I wrote the wrong poem asking an incorrect question.

One last poem – no more questions.

Alone

We’re all abandoned
Each separated by flesh
Encased souls - stranded

All travel alone
Each footprint untraceable
Graves - our final home