This desert will entomb me.
Each grain of sand will consume me;
A feast of decay, a burial by decree.
This desert will not let me escape.
It will hold me in its grasp
While in the sun my waters evaporate.
I have carried my people far, as if
On a river we travelled, in a reed basket ,
Seeking the promised land —
The swaying tree, the white-tipped river
Winding between the shadows of the valley, the dreams
Prophets have handed down like swaddled babes.
But now I know.
This desert is the end for me.
It whispers; it sings
The desert’s words are my unravelling.
This will be the home of my bones until I
Am desert too, unrecognizable even by God,
Blown across the sands as sand myself.
This desert’s rising and falling bosom undoes me,
Drinking me into the expanse so uniform
I will be forever displaced.