Just get me to NM.

NM
La Puente, Tierra Amarilla, NM

Just get me to NM.

Get me somewhere that’s not here.
I’m not doing it to escape.
Or because I’m afraid.
I just long to move even if I can’t.
I long for familiar faces and arms that hold tight and comfort and home.

I’m now above the clouds and I realize this is heaven.
Leaving everything I am so used and accustomed to.
To return, but depart temporarily for my own sanity.

I need this.
We need this.

As the man in the seat next to me dozes I am just waking.

I’ve been the most tired I’ve ever been.
Cried like a hysterical child for longer than I should have.
Pounded my fists into walls repeatedly and walked away unaware the blood from my knuckles was splattered on those around me.

Give me peace.
Give me something wide open.
Give me beautiful land to soothe my soul.
Where my ancestors still haunt the blessed grounds and where the hills stay green for over two months and where I feel like I have lived half my life.
Please.

I have always yearned for travel but never allowed myself to get too far.
It’s the thought that if I stand in one place other than what I’m used to my feet will plant like roots clawing into the dirt and it will make leaving unbearable.
I now seem to find more comfort in places, than most people.
The simple things out on that land stare me straight in my face with wide yellow eyes and toothless grins.

I glance down at my brittle, chewed up fingernails.
They disgust me but somehow remind me of what I’ve just overcome.
The end of a quarter is the fresh beginning for my hands, which take the beating when my stress and anxiety take me beyond the realm of calmness and into a territory of nerves I endure for weeks at a time.
The collateral damage my body endures during my studies can end now.
The weakness, the gain, the mental and physical exhaustion.
All well worth it, but all too familiar for comfort.

Just get me to NM.

It has always come into my life at a time of renewal, a time of hurt, of anger, or sadness, or rejuvenation.
The old falls away when I am there.
I am reminded why I am who I am.
I need this.

Need to be in a Catholic church that’s cornerstones and frames have been pounded into the Earth hundreds of years ago.
Need to hear a Spanish prayer read aloud by a priest who is oblivious to mine and the parishioners struggles but prays for us wholeheartedly anyway.
I wear St. Dymphna around my neck and sometimes forget why.
Straying from her and Him and coming back with a “please” prayer.
Hating myself for questioning if it’s at all possible to be calm in chaos,
loving in hurt,
humble in diversity,
kind in anger,
faithful in doubt.

chimayo.jpg
El Sanctuario de Chimayo, NM

I hear to be strong for others.
I hear when this passes your strength will have increased tenfold.
And I have always heard unanswered prayers are necessary.

I never knew I could so long for something I don’t have,
a place I’ve already been,
a background I didn’t choose.

Just get me to NM.

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