Sand and Tears

No water here, no humanity either;
only footprints our mothers made 
crossing the Sahel into Gaza where 
men are pained by long memories, 
and women plot their return to die.

Wind, weeping all night, made my 
eyes dry, yet when I saw yours 
I remembered my name, and I was 
determined to reach out for 
the moon and ride her back to the

beginning of our dreams, my hand
trembling in your firm grasp,
above the last dune where my
desert abruptly ends 
and your maps out a continent.


For a refugee from Mali