Thoughts, Visions, and other Items Created by Susannah Thomas Castro 

It's time to prune the dead roses.

 

So I got up early this morning and in the clear light I cut most of them off. The truth is there are so many I only got to two of the rose bushes and even then I left some of them on each bush. Dried out but still beautiful, they hold onto their petals until a big enough wind or storm blows them away. Soon the bushes will be cut back of all the spring blossoms and ready for the next round this fall after the monsoon rains. The sky is a clear light blue with no clouds. Birds are calling everywhere and ravens are flying over on their way down to the fields in the ranches by the Santa Cruz river. They spend their days there foraging for food. The desert holds that open endless vast space that feels like limitless potential. I threw the roses into the chiminea with sage and tobacco and burned them. The dog is excited and running back and forth, I have to avoid her taking my arm off as I'm lighting the fire. The waning moon dropping down towards the tumacacori mountains in the bright morning sky. I can see it just above the kids' old swingset and the mesquite trees.



Mine is the house of the mercenary 
the pirate
the warrior who walks the precipice in the Chiricahua mountains 
the Apaches riding horses through desert grass in the rolling hills of the south lands. 
I walked with them, alone, throughout my childhood.
those who grab the rattlesnake around its neck before it strikes and kill it with their bare hands. Not because we want to. Because there is no other option. 
The hawk suspends itself just above me, right here. 
It is. Always present. 
I am friends with death. 
I don't deal in gold doubloons
Throw them away they mean nothing to me. 
I deal in matters of the soul.