Wild West Wisdom

Wild West Wisdom 

Staring down the barrel of a pistol has never been such a holy sight 

Such a sight no one but men like me get to see 

I wake to it, just as I wake with the sun

And I sleep to it, like I sleep with the moon curled into my shoulder, the stars bay above us both

But now, here, the tumbleweeds can’t save me, the dust can’t save me

No horse I’ve ever tamed will shield my tarnished belt buckle

Every day of my life I run, I have run through these mountains and sierras, faster than the setting sun, and I have sharpened my blade to the thought of it 

No man has ever gotten me, my spurs jingle to the sound of their last breath as I run

And the only tears I shed are sacrificed to the bright beam of desert dawn and swallowed by the
      parched morn 

But now, looking at this cowboy, this cowboy like me

with his prudent pistol pointed at my burlap cheek 

He’s crying out “me more cowboy than you” 

He says “I’ve got blue-collar blood, and horse hair prickles my leather skin”

But for the first time, it don’t matter to me, no it don’t matter to me at all 

Because when they put me six feet below my boots, I won’t bleed blue through the crispy grass 

No Stetson-brimmed skeletons will ask if I can herd cattle, or how many men I’ve taken

Only one knows how many I’ve taken, and I think it’s time I pay my dues

So when I look into this fella’s eyes, I see only the same moon I hold tight in the evening, that
      same desert dawn I could never forget 

And when my spurs jingle across the plain, a dead man won’t be my prize 

Forgiveness—like I’ve never known it—grows from the chilled steel of his barrel 

How could I know it? When a rattlesnake was my first pacifier, and now it hangs from the corner
    of my wrinkled lips still, as I blow thick clouds of stench into the scorching afternoon 

The sins I’ve collected—like a pack of wild dogs at my heel—chase me into the sunset, but now,    
        this saddle of mercy I ride 

While the devil may scrap for what the Lord has won, that’s one punch I won’t throw no more

 

I walk away from this pistoled cowboy, because amnesty has taught this outlaw the outline of his
        savior 

And now a new man walks with me, one who’s been with me all along in my dessert dawn 

 

 

This poem was written with metaphors, simile, imagery, repetition, litany, personification, and alliteration. I really wanted the reader to experience the feeling of the desert and the life of a cowboy through my description of the landscape and lifestyle. I wanted to use words that describe the feeling of a standoff, and of the harsh life of an outlaw. I also wanted to use repetition to describe this cowboys wrestle with faith and morals, and show how he was struggling and overthinking through his decision. I always feel God’s presence the most when I am in nature, especially when I see sunsets or beautiful landscapes. I wanted to imagine what cowboys noticed about the beauty that surrounds them, or if they have become numb to it like they have the life of an outlaw. I wondered how cowboys can be surrounded by such beauty all of the time (in the desert, and living a life on the road), and still choose to kill and steal. I thought it was interesting to consider what would happen if a rugged cowboy had a spiritual experience, and decided to turn his life around. Sometimes I feel like holding a grudge is like a stand off, and deciding to shoot is a lose lose situation. To me, forgiveness is walking away from that stand off, and choosing to act mercifully as God intended us.