Friday, June 15, 2012

The feel of it




I miss the feel of it
gone dry after such a brief taste
the desert stretching out before me
with no end in sight,
the soft touch that I won’t touch again
in this prickly place
the moan of wind in the air above me
the shudder of the earth shifting
because of me,
I am Moses mounting his mountain,
my fingers search out each crack
in the rock for that place
where god resides
and the earth trembles
and the softness defies the desert
and the jagged edges of life
I miss the feel of it
after such a brief respite
a man dying of thirst
let to wet only the tip of his lips
before being cast out
of paradise
again.

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