Pic found here
Dry earth, tired of dust moans at my
footsteps so that a weird and odd creaking
cries chords of a life that’s something missing.
“Water!” begs the desert of each meaning
Dry earth is now as dust where I walk
tired, listening to silence of
no one rising from flat dark nowhere:
empty meaningless space of these days
I’m dry earth. I need fresh dew that could
flow and be both allusion and notice
to spring turgors, now, nowadays lost.
My skin is filling with lines and pains.
Here the earth dries up and wears out more
the day that folds itself to the night
senseless of one who is slave of instinct.
Give us You, water and light that’s missing
March, 28th 2022