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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ For over two decades, my husband and I taught in Fabens, Texas, a small border community southeast of El Paso, Texas. Teaching in a border community was hard and required a certain amout of Texas grit. By spring break, we were spent and exhausted. So, a group of us teachers looked for a place where we could escape, gain perspective, and rejuvenate before the final stretch of the school year. We loaded up an SUV and made the three-hour drive from El Paso to Marfa, Texas, calling our journey Pilgrimage to Marfa. The sun bleaches bones of old Chevys parked like tombstones behind the Hotel Paisano~ Marfa doesn’t rush. Even spring break is a slow unraveling, a dust devil spinning nothing but its own restless heat. Marfa doesn’t care that we came here to escape~ only that we did, barefooted down a gravel road, dust rising like slow applause. We wander through town, the desert swallowing us whole in its pink-lit throat~ A tumbleweed rolls through the motel pool, chlorine-green and half-drained, while the neon sign blinks: Vacancy or Mirage? At dusk, we drive gravel roads chasing the Marfa lights— not UFOs, just the desert exhaling what we can’t explain. Yet, we half-believe in something out here~ the Marfa Ghost Lights, the way the highway stretches like a long, lazy promise The stars here don’t twinkle. They stab. When the wind lifts a skirt of sand over the highway’s cracked lips, we all pause, feeling suddenly holy, suddenly small.
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