A Summer Expression Of Grief

I feel the heat building in my body-mind-spirit as the scorching, hot days turn into weeks without rain down here in southern Arizona.

I have settled into the season. I am slow and enjoy the privilege of an afternoon nap. I celebrate the cool morning before the sun pours out across the horizon. I welcome each tiny flower that dares to sprout from the dry, hot earth.

As I honor the beauty, I acknowledge the destruction and suffering. I wonder about the transformation to come. This is my practice of grief and celebration.

Many people have died this summer within the migration corridor where I live and the surrounding Sonoran Desert. Many plants and animals are struggling to survive.

I grieve for the lives lost and the families weeping for missing loved ones. I pray for rain as I shed my own salty-sweet tears. Water is life, and none shall live without it.

Note: This was written during the period of of 108+ degree heat with barely a mouthful of rain fall all season. The elders say it has never been this hot for so long and never this dry in the summer. Since writing this we’ve maybe had a glassful of rain. It has cooled some and also heated up again, and it is amazing how comfortable 100 degrees can feel after endless days and weeks within a range of 103-110. Forty-six humans were found dead while in the process of migration in the border region that is my home in Southern Arizona in the month of July. For each person that is found, we can assume that 10 will remain forever disappeared in the borderlands that are now a vast graveyard. Water is life, water is life, water is life. None of the four churches in the town where I live are willing to offer water to folks in need. I wonder what community care means to them? I wonder what community care means to you? I wonder what it is that I am still unwilling to see…