As I walked around its edges

studying the crystal depths

the question haunted me

‘Was this really an oasis?'

 

It was, for sure

bright, dazzling, enchanting

winking in the sun like cut glass

blinding in its reflection

 

Skin dried, parched, wasted

like a child, I had crawled

walked, run to it

basked in its waters

revelled in its showers

splashed, jumped, gambolled

thrown handfuls to the skies

a deprived castaway

finally sighting his ship home.

 

And yet,

deep inside,

thirst remained…

 

Acclimatised, accustomed

I now considered closely its properties:

intransigent, immovable

to be enjoyed on its terms

no filling my pockets with these waters

no onward journey

dry land, quick sand

slipping through my fingers

coursing away, away

with all the certainty of an hour glass

leaving empty hand

vacuum

void

 

Somewhere beyond the desert

life teemed,

steamed

the refuse to refuge

of cracked cardboard city

sourced from mountains

of a different nature

A world where toothless children

foraged, clambered, climbed

and wasted women washed

in scum sluiced streams

where water flowed away

life imperfect, everyday, in everyway

but real.

 

The road ahead stretched, dry, barren

haunted by the ghosts of mirage past

no star to guide my way

no gifts of gold, frankincense or myrrh

just one skin, one life

and all the sand in the world.