I dream of the desert
where winds sun stone
Red orange yellow--
blue purple black.
I dream of the desert
where breath catches slow
round swirls on the ground
every touch pays water of its own.
The desert does not dream of me
it knows what I can’t know,
and doesn’t care that I will never
be carefree indifferent windblown.
---
You are unmoved by me
unchanged by me
in you I see
my Creator
---
The cat is bathing herself
again.
Her snuffly breaths anchor me
with a sense of belonging:
this is right, to be at home of an evening,
cooking something, playing something,
straightening here and there,
and finally turning off lights, and bowing
face down, to say "thank you, God. Won't
you bring such security to the whole world?"
"God, may the young women have a moment to stop and think,
a space to breathe in.
"May the young men have a purpose they can believe in that
will earn their self-respect.
"May the old ones have families.
"May the young ones have dreams.
"May all have the food they need.
"Amen."
