her desert...

it must float like a story
untold, unsorted
or like a memory of a river
rooted and blotted.

of selective theory and
matters of heart or
un-distilled emotions
of victim's soar.

entangled between the odds
a life of smiles and madness
must grow. A mute
symphony of peasants
is a sermon to the hills.
but who will welcome back
the evening, tired and torn
after a day inside the sun.

the wife or the daughter,
who gather tea and breeze
looks for a window
to scale the return of dawn
but these all are metaphors
of a protected memory
of a man from hills
and her desert.