Abiquiú

My family came into what is now New Mexico and Colorado four centuries ago.

the founding of the city of Santa Fe, Nuevo Mexico, places like Española and Abiquiu and so many other places in New Mexico, and then the northward movement right after the Mexican-American War.

So in my own life, from the floor of the United States Senate to the Oval Office of the President of the United States, I've always tried to remind everybody that that history is one that has been there for a long time.

Unfortunately, so few people know it.

Well,

there's a water release coming from Abiquiu.

That's what I was going to say.

Water release.

The reservoir in Abiquiu, there will be a release down in through the Rio Grande.

So you will see water in the Rio Grande Thursday.

for example.

The hard part was saying it, so I wrote it down: Something small I love is leaving me.

Now it’s late morning in Abiquiu and I’m alone in the courtyard rolling around on the flagstone, breathing, a drawing of Mimsy in the shade, a mug cooling at her side.

I said I don’t drink coffee or need a week to myself, but look at me now, trying not to lie.

So I listen.

Now she’s different.

We remember what we need.

This poem, written in the shadow of Chimney Rock in Abiquiu, New Mexico, explores how we carry loss with us into new spaces and places, and how nature, in its brutality and beauty, can shake us back into our bodies and the present moment.

It's about learning to hold loss up to the light in order to let it go, to keep living and loving in whatever small ways we can.