7
Ik
White
Resonant Wind
I hear the Call
From an eastern Gate---
From Roses on the Vine
Lightning flashes Foot to Head
Settling in the Belly---
A slow Burn of wild Desire
I feel a Call
Lifting me from the Desert---
Out of Drought into cool Mist
Gone the dry Brush
Gone the burning Sun
Cool Breezes fly through me
I know this Call---
I’ve heard it all before
The Locusts ate my Passion
From an Oasis
Fresh Water flows---
My Thirst is sated, my Hunger gone.
©Kleomichele Leeds
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