White Sands

I grew up walking these dunes. Bare feet pressing into earth with each intentional and savory stride. Calculating each grain of sand as they brushed against my soles, smoothing out the divots in my soul. I remember tracing the soft blurred edges of the horizon, feeling transported to another planet; Feeling right at home. And I'd kneel down grasping at handfuls of white glittery powder, letting it sift through my fingers, softly returning to the earth. Doing this with such reverence in ritual, honoring the sacred powdered bones of my ancestors. Wishing them to know their daughter of the desert and sun was with them; That I had returned home.

© Jaxson Pohlman

© Jaxson Pohlman

Christion Robertson