Morning in the Desert by Nick Pipitone

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Watching the horizon, bright sun high above

baking the desert this lonely morning

I came here for mystical union, for total silence

but the mighty sun cares not this morning

What of the Desert Fathers, who searched for love

retreated to their cells in the morning?

Did they unlock secrets, away from violence

find perfect solitude in quiet mornings?

I’ve read their books, listened to their tales,

but the words escape me this morning

I want my eyes to be removed of scales,

like St. Paul seeing Jesus in the morning

But I am no monk, no, far from it,

I wake, smoke cigarettes in the mornings

I am an addict, one of broken spirit,

my mind races furiously each morning

When will I heal, come to my peace,

not wake feeling dread each morning?

I’m here in this desert, looking for release

from a thousand dejected mornings

The sky a bruised purple, the rising sun

nothing but empty space this morning

I let go of my fears, they weigh like a ton

alas, peace will not come this morning

Cross-legged I sit, the journey’s never done,

one day at a time, each and every morning.

-NICK PIPITONE

Nick Pipitone lives and writes in the Philadelphia, PA, area in the United States, where he was born and raised. His fiction and poetry have been published in Bewildering Stories, The Drabble, and Lucy’s Works, among other places. His favorite things are books and coffee.

Read more of Nick’s writing at Fiction & Ideas – Stories, Thoughts, and Musings.

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