Dust in the Israeli Wind

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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