The Desert Hunter

THE DESERT HUNTER

                                                "The state in which one should be

                                                to seriously search for the truth

                                                is the condition of the thirsty, burning soul

                                                desiring the water of life..."

                                                                             -- '‘Abdu’l-Bahá

                   At dawn he sits in the arroyo;

                   his face like a bubble, skin like cork.

                   His lungs and throat evaporate

                   into fumes that burn in the sun,

                   now a hoop of fire on the desert edge.

                   Teeth gnash on all sides

                   of the venue of cliffs and crickets.

                   The sun's scorpoid fingers now clasp every pore

                   and he begins to ride across the pelvis of time,

                   his bones like burnt joss sticks.

                   In silence, alone, he starts the chant.

                                                          -- C. S. Cholas

                                                              Colorado, 1973