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