73 – Good Friday, Moors, Cross, Cold, Morada

Blazing hot sun, a snow shower, strong wind, bitter cold on this Good Friday. I stay at home writing, reading, sorting pictures.
In Chimayo, the pilgrims have arrived or are arriving to pray and take home a bit of the sacred earth that heals.

“Joe Sanchez on the cross during a reenactment of the crucifixion of Jesus during Good Friday pilgrimage to the Sanctuary of Chimayo.” Jessica Rinaldi
“Bernadette Saavedreen on her way to the sanctuary in Chimayo where thousands of people come on Good Friday. They believe that the earth inside the chapel has the power to heal.” Jessica Rinaldi

Late afternoon, I go for a walk. On the moor beyond the Morada, it’s a must today. At the cemetery, the graves have blossomed with new flower offerings.

On the way, I meet these four pilgrims who are going home. We greet each other.
“A picture of us? Okay.”

When I take the usual path, over there, I see the traces of the cross carried and dragged, then some stone crosses and straw in the places where some knelt, I imagine.
I follow the tracks for a while. Lose them.

I see the earth, barely dry, already cracking, birds everywhere, elk tracks in a dry riverbed.

I hear the wind, feel the cold coming on as the sun disappears.

I walk back along the long straight path that leads from Georgia O’Keeffe’s cross to the Morada,
in the cold colors of dusk.

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