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Cravings. Rising deep from in my being, pumping wants through my arteries right along with the oxygen. And just as crucial to sustain life. 

I need to be in the desert.

I crave it when I close my eyes at night and drift off to sleep, spring rain against my window.

The way the sun shines--not just ON me, but through me, warming to my core. 

Storms rolling across the sand, downpouring life onto the thirsty desert floor; every drop greedily stolen by the sun scorched earth. 

I’ve been to the city at night and noticed many of the stars have left; ran away to take shelter in the desert sky. To be worshiped, wished upon, and impossibly counted. I would go to the desert, if I were a star. 

Let me be a star.

I miss the way I feel when I am deep below the surface, limbs tangled and twisted to fit into the earth’s underground spaces that have never seen sun. Never seen life. Except for mine. 

That feeling.

The cool, smooth red rock against my fingers and toes. The sun and sand simultaneously staining my salt layered skin.

The ease at which I can carry a worry, a problem, a struggle that haunts my mind, and let the heat, the wind, and the sand strip those worries away and polish me down until my soul shines bright.

This is what I crave. 

My thirst quenched only by the taste of dry desert sky.

Maybe it’s not so much that I need to be in the desert...I just need the desert in me.

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