I felt the Saharan wind come.
In gusts it blew away ancient rock,
each line hand-carved by time’s hands.
The Sun fulfills me here,
and even in the safety of an ever proud fig tree,
He penetrates the shadows.
But thirst knows no one here,
for the river runs like summer snowmelt,
fed by slow seeping into the same subterranean crevasses
that pockmark this vast moonscape.
Turtles and frogs swim in the waters,
and since food is found when you know eyes to look,
I have never met hunger here either.
In these gardens Earth’s bounty drips from our sweat:
and even in the heat, She refuses to cease.
The desert is only a mirage of death,
but one that will consume you if you stay long enough.
Do not disbelieve that this river oasis is the only pulse of life here:
Sun parched, but vibrant, life here in the dry
is living amongst us in all directions.
In the corners and small places,
the life of the desert is not outrageous!
It’s humble and humbling,
enough that just the ecology of the Light here
reflecting off the gypsum at sunrise
will bring you to your knees –
Let alone the ecology of the wild relations who breathe!
-Cassandra Caroline
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