Tuesday, July 12, 2011

The Salt of the Desert

Lizard on castle wall, France




After the wandering
through the land of the sun . .  .
where the dying is done . . .
this pain severs our souls . .
and we are prostrate with grief . .

our children's spirits have withdrawn
from the fury of the heat . . .

this family's heart is deeply carved
by the blazing passion
of the angry gods  ..

we have followed the stars
faintly lighting our trail . .. 
we have wandered
and suffering by night. . .
diminished by white hot day . . .

our feet are bleeding. . .
scored deeply by piercing stones
defending against our way . . .
our breasts are withered,
sunken eyes like waterless wells . .
the bones of our backs . . .
cast deep black lines
sketches on our ashy skins . . .
a shadowy tale
of this journey through death . .

statue in medieval village, France
keen eyed raven
rustles feathers over head,
waiting . . .
silently watching
as our people fall in the heat . .
a black feather drops
a single offering to loss . . .

the soul is weary
and grieves
as the dry rivers flow . . .
and forever lay down
a trace in the desert . .


a trail of salt
in blazing white . . .
a silent sacrifice to an angry
god's fire . . ..


detail on building in Rocamadour, France
**************************************************************

3 comments:

TheFSBluesman said...

Very beautiful poem, congratulations. I do like your style, it is not forced into rhymes, and let your soul express feelings with power. Very good work.

Fabio.

Wolfsong said...

Thank you very much, Fabio . . .
I got the idea from a story someone told me . .. and the beginnings of a song, a musical composition . . .

Moineau En France said...

beautiful poem, barbara. the heat and pain are palpable and the well-chosen photographs embellish the text. you have found your voice here, barb. brings tears to my eyes... xoxooxo