Sometimes within the wilderness that is my heart
I wonder where lies: oasis.
Sediment and fossil, undeserving even of this poem,
slump under a coincidence of bones.
Sands ripple, reshuffle into dunes.
All belie the audacity of moisture.
And I: I continue to supervise my life
as I negotiate the fringe of burning sand
and seek redemption
from the petty indulgences that stain my days.
To mask the sense of loss what use are purgative tears?
I pray to move beyond the dust into fertile green.
The tears pool. And, soon enough,
a blessed tree sighs beyond the smudged mirage.