Earl's Gold Poem by Smoky Hoss

- It was November,2020.
I was with my daughter
in southern Utah, deep canyon country,
seeking some temporary solace, far away
from the wicked ways of the world,
when Arkansas Dave found me,
gave me the bad news: Earl is dead.
That damned dirty devil cancer
came and stole him away -
- It was 1978.
We were wild kids, dreaming and riding high.
We were sure that we'd live forever...
do everything, see everything,
discover everything.
So certain Old Scratch, Dirty-Death would steer clear of us;
Earl, with his crazy trick pony Maverick,
and me, with that big stud, mud slinging wild Bronco
made plans, and promises, to head out to 'Zona, prospecting.
Go find Ben Traywick's toadstool-treasure.
There's gold in them-thar dreams.
Time, however, has a way of changing things,
so easy and gentle and smooth
that a person barely notices, until
years later, when you look around and wonder,
Where'd it all go?
- Earl went north.
I headed south.
Never hearing from, nor seeing each other again.
Oh, to be sure, I did search
for Frank Fish's pocket of gold... many times over years.
God, and Andy, know I tried hard, with their help.
Many is a time I slept out in the chill
of that divinely desolate desert,
thinking of how Earl would react
when I told him of my grand adventures
in pursuit of 'our' gold!
Like the time, miles from any road,
I ran into a puma, face to face, and feared,
'this might be the end'; the many
cactus-country encounters with the local residents:
coyotes sneaking through narrow canyons;
rattle snakes, so silent, right up to the moment
I, reaching for the next ledge, nearly touch them;
scorpions who, seeking warmth, neighborly crawled into
my sleeping bag on cold nights;
Gila monsters, so grand and glorious (and deadly) ,
who lay waiting in every hole and crack;
and that very special occasion
I was just once blessed with:
sitting alone, basking in sweet sunshine,
my legs dangling joyfully over a canyon cliff,
eating a snack,
I looked down upon a happy family
of wild javelinas 200 feet below,
playing with such wonder and abandonment
that I swear, I could hear them giggle and laugh out loud!
Ah, the beauty of the search.
Worth far greater riches than all the treasure
anyone could ever dig from the ground.
All of this - this being so fully alive,
embracing, truly aware of the real nature of living -
this, I looked forward to someday sharing,
as a gift, with Earl.
The one to whom, with immeasurable gratitude,
I will forever be thankful for starting me
on the incredible journey into,
not only the soul of the Southwest, but
also into the soul of my true self.
- Now, as I ponder and pray
for my fallen comrade,
who has gone searching ahead of us,
on that least known trail of all, I realize
that I must again journey
into the untamed territory,
that land of fierce beauty and radical adventure,
to delve for more than simply gold.
What I have thus far discovered is:
true treasure lies in the seeking,
searching and longing after,
in the joining and bonding of kindred spirits
pursuing together the adventure of living.
- When I return, as I must,
I will not be alone,
for the never-dying spirit of Earl is with and within me.
While trekking the many miles back
to where gold still hides in deep canyons,
I will tell him of all my dashing tales of bold enterprise
as has unfolded over the missed years.
Together we shall dig and find the treasure of a lifetime,
and beyond; the gold of the soul
that death can never steal:
a friendship and brotherhood of endless adventure,
that goes ever onward, beyond any grave.
- Peace Larry Earl; we didn't realize it then,
but, we actually found the true-treasure
back at the start in '78: Friendship.