There’s a thin veneer of sand
In this ancient land
Of so many stones
Reclaiming the country
grain by grain
I drive along Highway 6
Puffs of white dust
Like smoke
Hover above barren fields
Aside a looming wall.
I walk along slippery floors
As if powdered
It’s like I’m skating
Without wheels.
Even my sneakers have no grip.
I push on my eyelids
My contact lenses
Are gritty at the end of day
My eyes beg for release
Blinking, scratching, dry.
I try to sleep in the bedroom,
Where I smell the parched earth
Rather than see it
It creeps into my dreams
The blankets are ochre with it.
Fine pale sands
of the beaches
Of the dunes
Of the deserts
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes.
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Published by creativeaudrey
A writer, a dreamer, a teacher at university and at heart, a counselor, coach, friend, mother, and wife. An American/Israeli living in the Netherlands since 2001.
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