Mysteries – a poem by David Chorlton

Mysteries

	after Tom Russell's Guadalupe

About faith they were never wrong, the desert
angels. Black clouds
above the mission church, an owl
at night for each departing soul
and prayers for rain ride the thermals
every day. An echo, echo
                                              marks the closing
of the wooden door as footprints
leave a dusty trail to midnight. Skunk time,
bats are saints flying in sacred space
and ringtails find a way
to bind their tails around belief.
Darkness is the miracle
                                           that makes miracles
complete: the crops smile again, roadkill
comes back to life and inside
old adobe walls the organ plays without
the hands of a musician. Listen:
                                                          the notes
are walking on their toes
uphill on the stony trail
to be closer to the stars.

David Chorlton lived in Manchester and Vienna before moving to Arizona and beginning to learn from the desert and its creatures. He occasionally returns to his other long term pursuit of painting. The Bitter Oleander Press published his book Dreams the Stones Have in 2024.