Autumn Non-Fiction | October 13, 2020
Desert Pains
by Char Pfaff
Artwork by Kes Reed Miller
My family’s pain quietly forms as mountains in the desert sky. It clashes against the blue above, all giant rocky waves that obscure the night into unknown obstacles. I want to be the sun for them, to celebrate every crevice, supplying warmth and growth. But when I try to shine on them I only scorch it all into fire, covering the fields with grey smoke that blocks away all further life. So then I try to be the moon. To celebrate their hidden edges, the ones I can’t see as they stop me from descending my light over each quitting cliff. I try it all for centuries. I try to illuminate my differing perspective on the arduous rock, changing phases, climates, and seasons. Yet no light can reach the stone sealed secrets. So I must plummet from the stars, lay down in the valleys of the dry brush mountains, and peer into the changing unknown as I erode beside them.
Char Pfaff is a queer writer and editor from California. They have been fortunate to serve as a lead editor at Flume Press, where they produced "Turned To Obsidian", a poetry collection. Their work has been featured by Salty Newsletter, alongside editorial work done for the publication as well. They love to fight for liberation, abolition, and enjoy a glass of red wine while pretending they can play guitar quietly to themselves at home.