386. Sandstorm

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Sands drift around…

Up in the air,

Then back to the ground.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

The wind is your friend…

Pushing you on,

But when does it end?

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Sand’s in my lungs.

It’s hard to breathe,

And you’ve just begun.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Grains full of rage.

Can we start over?

Write a new page?

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

I’ll suffocate!

Hours have passed,

And it’s getting late.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Words propagate.

We can’t start over;

It is too late.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Reach to the door…

Slam it behind you;

That’s what they’re for.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Left in your dust.

Please don’t come back,

I’m starting to rust.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Leave me alone.

My skin is cracking.

I’m turning to bone.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Dusts float your way.

I’m lost in your words.

I’m fading away.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

You move away.

Yet now I am dust.

And dust drifts away.

K. Aldaya, 2/22/17

Picture: “Sandhouse Sienna Room” by Cary Wolinsky; http://www.carywolinskyphotographs.com/sandhouse-series#/sandhouse-blue-1-2-1/; https://limeduck.com/feast-for-the-eyes/