The open road winds through the Navajo Nation like a slow moving snake. Your thoughts can easily be swallowed up in the vastness.
You see a small gathering of manufactured homes with a row of new Ford and Chevy trucks, rusty playground equipment teeters in the winter’s breeze. Abandoned roadside stands hold artwork of the Native American.
I stand beside it for awhile and think about loss.
I come to a bridge, Navajo Bridge to be precise, and get out of the car. An old Navajo woman is selling jewelry in the rain. I greet her with a smile but don’t buy anything. I walk towards the bridge and wonder how many have taken their final plunge here.
You feel closer to God out here under the gray skies and Red Rocks. I walk back and forth along Navajo Bridge, looking down into the Colorado river and seeing my own reflection, I look up into the sky and see nothing but simple truths.
As the song says, all that you have is your soul. Save my soul, save myself.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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