we tie the white scallop to our backpacks

Turquoise. How could I know? The ocean rolls waves over the surface above me, a landlocked desert pilgrim on Camino, the path leading to sand and sea. Weightless, swaying with the water, I relinquish my brokenness to wonder. Fragments of shell, tumbled by waves against hidden stones, emerge with me upon the beach.

I have dreamed of the turquoise water again. I believe it is the water that calls to me while I turn and float in sleep. But the water is only the voice.

The unexpected color of the light, curling waves reflecting my own eyes to me – this is the soul messenger, the fantastic angel holding my wings for me, again, summoning me to put them on, again, and rejoin the larger world. Come, swim out into the ocean, says Wonder. Wings become fins, fins become feet, feet take to trails, trails take to stars.

I am dried out, parched under this sun of relentless knowing. What I know is small, scuttles under rocks for shade, waiting for the desert air to cool. With nightfall, the Mystery closes my eyes and draws me forward, winding and finding my way by flicking my tongue, testing my thoughts for the faintest scent of life. Hungry, hunting for new experiences that can feed me. By day, I curl into my den, dulled by heat, waiting.

I don’t want to know. I want to find.

Wonder as I wander, under the sky.