Nala — I Am The Desert

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My earthen tongue sears hot as desert earth;
my blood-fired heart beats hot as desert earth.

You speak in riddles of monsoon ways;
you may be wise, but not as desert earth.

Your city is piled high, piled bone on bone,
to break Earth’s back. Not so desert earth.

Blind, people walking here will never know
the free breath, the very thought of desert earth.

Your time is measured written on the sky.
My life in swirls, unmeasured drop of desert earth.

I, Nala, know. You will die, will come to naught,
forget and be forgotten. Not desert earth.