In the Land of Pink Wind

by Briana Gervat

 

The moon rose, not yet full,

Just after the sun surrendered to it the last of its light

and each grain of sand blushed,

as if only now,

at so late and hour,

remembering the mountains they once were.

 

When the last of the Bedouin lullabies faded into the shadows

I began to sleep the sleep of one thousand nights;

The moon my pillow,

the stars my blanket,

and the wind a thousand and one kisses in the darkness.

 

Morning came as slowly and as quietly as the night,

the light returning long before the rising of the sun.

And like the slow coming of day

my thoughts turned slowly to this:

 

If this life offers me love,

not in the form of a lover,

but rather peace in this place of both silence and space,

then happily will I return to the arms of this desert

And allow my heart to grow still.