Desert Red

***This is a continuation from the poem River Styx.***

I climb

over burnt amber sands

piled high

reminescent

of snow hills

I played on as a child.

Glaring sun

no respite

I stumble along

unsure

where I am going

what I will find at the end.

Moving one foot before the other

cracked lips

I can feel the skin on my face

blistered

charred

no agony

no pain

Is this trial by fire?

Will the sins staining my soul

finally be erased?

An oasis I seek

mirage

what I find

until finally I fall

unable to move further on.

Peddler man

finds me

face down

covered partly by sand.

With surprising strength

he picks me up

placing me on his wagon.

‘Rest little one.

I am the next to carry you further.’

Sept. 13/18

Photo by Mason Field on Unsplash