THE DESERT
It was the
Lord, our God, who brought us and our ancestors up out of the land of Egypt,
out of the house of slavery.—Joshua 24:17
You
depart for the desert in darkness,
The
way lit by the moon.
Rocks
and scrub touched by chalk,
Brush
lightly dusted white…
The
planet is luminously radioactive.
Mountains
cut out by scissors
Press
black polygons against the sky.
Gradually,
gloaming
Restores
pink flush to the land,
Turning
the moon into a faint watermark.
Noontime
unsheathes his sword,
Slaying
the day.
No
animals peep in this slow broil,
Not
a twitch of the ear,
Not
a blink from a paralytic.
Traveling
inside an oven, you wear a hat,
Swig
ice water frozen the day before,
Keep
delirium at bay like an anxious patient.
The
wind lies in a coma.
Oxygen
is too weak to rise.
Twilight
is adding pigments to oil,
Deepening
blue,
Doing
arithmetic,
Red
times orange.
Tiny
denizens stir as if readying for school.
Dusk
makes a promise:
He
says the mountains hold deep wells and caves,
Cool
as beds freshly made.
He
speaks not to deceive but to encourage.
Waiting
is a long walk to freedom, a motionless journey.
The world is…
The
world is a waterless white expanse.
Abandoned
cities stand as termite mounds,
Hubs
of gulley networks lined with salt.
Beetles
make homes where no humans roam.
Scorpions
tiptoeing track tiny dimples.
Lizards
scurry about as if electrocuted.
The
wind whistles through honeycomb ruins.
Tiny
tornadoes raise their fists.
Hot
dust puffs like gun smoke.
We
walk among windswept dunes of ash.
We
quarry for light and dig for springs.
We
tap at stones and ask for mercy.
We
water ourselves to water the world.
ELIJAH
I
am struck down by the warrior sun in the desert.
I
am a string attempting to stand.
I
cannot move my legs—
They
are stones hammered into the earth.
I
cannot lift my arms—
They
are branches felled by a storm.
I
am a house unable to move,
A
hoary salt bed cooked entirely dry.
Depletion
is my abrupt affliction.
I
am a well filled at bottom with sand.
I
long for a jug of sweet water,
For
a bundle of fresh steaming bread
To
bring life to my legs, hope to my heart—
Who
will bring me wherewithal for my journey?
The ocean is a desert…
The ocean is a desert:
No water to drink,
No trees to rest,
No animals to ride.
The gull that glides
Above the waves
Is the faraway condor
Surveying the sand;
They are in their element.
We find no home
In the sea any more than
We sleep in the clouds.
We sleep in the clouds.
 |
| Desert sunset at Kings Creek Station, Northern Territory, Australia |
