Find me a place where I can lay us down,

a stretch of sand washed clean, with tamarisk

sturdy, leaning well, to mark which winds

prevail.  Or find me fields where grasses sway

in waves, their velvet pile brushed up to catch

the light, where cattle graze in innocence,

and darkness holds us safe.


Give me cloth that’s soft enough to warm

my child, on nights so cold her breath is drawn

in gasps, and food to soothe our crusted throats,

so we can sleep, dream, with bellies full.

And let me tell you of a place I knew,

of forests felled, deserts parched,

where mountains once touched stars.


Eleanor J Vale