Tuesday, July 21, 2009

had courage,
had compassion,
not to tell me,

but to be my


and to ask me
how it would be

for the rest,

if I

the sun would burn their eyes,
their hides.

The desert is dry,

scorching hellish dry,
not for everyone,

almost not for me, but
I can't not walk.

Not everyone has to walk, but

everyone can choose to

think -

about why the desert exists,

and could there be water if
the line joining hands were long enough,

and how we could grow the grasslands
to stop the desert's spread.

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