EVEN IN DESOLATION
by Robin Shwedo
©: Robin Shwedo, 1995
Even in desolation,
I know there’s life.
In the dust bowl of my emotions,
where all my tears have burned
the flowering vegetation off
and made a mockery of joy,
is the whoosh of wind
blowing, dancing, moving and pulsing
in the dusty
gritty storm.
My entire being feels picked clean
like the skeletal remains of
a buffalo left to die in the desert;
the sensation is wholly complete,
leaving me completely disconnected.
My withered spirit craves
water,
food,
colors of the spectrum.
And yet,
even in desolation,
I know that there is life.
This is part of my collection titled Revolutionary Broads and Other Nightmares, which is currently looking for a publishing home.
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