Lianne
wrote an amazing poem about the desert

Desert Wanderings

Are the rare oases enough to
sustain the desert nomad?
And where is the desert boundary –
would the journeyman perceive
its end, or like me, see Canaan
and think it only temporary respite –
can he see beauty where I see none,
sculpture where I see sand –
has he more praise for palm trees
than I for all of Canaan’s promise?

Deserts are but dry expanses of the mind
the hypochondria boredom breeds,
unirrigated months, parched and barren
where there is naught to slake one’s thirst
and coolness only stones beneath one’s tongue,
monotonous thoughtscapes, uninspired
wishing for rivers, never neared mirages
and longings so undefined
that even prayer is sterile.

What happens to dreams that die?
Are they reborn in other minds
nourished in more fertile ground –
do the sands that cover them
windshift
reviving them again, or are they
preserved, like dried straw flowers,
still rich in color
but sapless, too fragile now to grow?