Walking Desert

I never thought it a desert

Nor did I ever judge the sands

I thought it a home

That I could hold in the palm of my hands

Sticking to my curly hair

And the shoes I wear

I became a walking desert

Completely unaware

Of the sands of my people

Clinging to my form

I wore as proudly as a soldier

Wearing his uniform

 

 

Published by

strangerpaths

Poet, making sense of war, humanity, love and greed. Trying to find the magic in ordinary things. I am Zee

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