Zerzura

Midday.
The sun's disc
beats against my skull.
In the distance drunken
waves of heat smudge
the horizon. Beyond
the shimmering curtain
palm trees promise
coolness. Roots paddle in water,
while branches run the gauntlet
of fire. In the shade's embrace
fruit curves into ripeness.

Moist dates dream
into my mouth.
Precious moisture cascades
over my skin.
Each painful step
takes me nearer
the cradle of shadow.
A shepherd robed in blue
kneels by the bubbling water,
his hands in a gesture of prayer.
Beside him his flock drink.

Here I shall linger,
a refugee from the haunted hour;
I shall listen to birdsong
and watch the dragonfly
emerge from its larva.