His desert land subconsciously craves her waters.

To flow between each grain of sand and touch the edge of his borders.

To cool down the dry hot weight of the sun’s unforgiving rays.

Make the clouds gather and pour down rain for days and days.

Open bare naked to the footsteps of the absent ones.

Seeking shelter or a place to rest their desperate tongues.

Their visits are never welcome.

But one by one they help to make him numb.

Their hunger for affection perpetuates the vicious cycle.

Each night when the moon rises he is able to pray to Saint Michael.

Ask that his true love returns into his world and flood his core of her happy once again.

Each day he waits for the night to ascend.

So he may at least be close to her till his end.

Poem by Sarah Martin
Digital edit by @digital_editz


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