It started with a howl,
Screaming around the edges,
Ripping at the Corners.
We’re safe in here.
As soon as we cross the
threshold it tears through us.
Clawing our burning skin and bloodshot eyes
with dust, sand, anything not tied down.
Our senses are enveloped,
thoughts eliminated without
relief.
We can’t see, trapped in the
swirling dust, alone, disorientated.
We can’t get back, not like this.
We wait, huddled against each other
for comfort and protection.
We’re trembling, we shouldn’t be like this..
It’s not right.
Then as quickly as it began, it stops.
A moment of calm
before the mania of
desert life begins again.
before we’re exposed again
to a different storm.
Jessica Tremp
beautiful…i love ‘Clawing our burning skin and bloodshot eyes
with dust, sand, anything not tied down.’
Eyal Nahmias
Quite a remarkable poem. One can get a true sense of life in the desert and the difficulties associated with it. Thanks for adding this poem to the Art of the Middle East group