To Our Broken Sandals

from the hottest part of this land
we rode our horses
with the mouth broken
and the tongue dried like the sand
to the point that also a kiss would be painful

so we stopped in a caravanserai
for water to wet our foreheads and
horses to let sleep
and a bit of cool shadow
to drink with our eyes

so we slept
till the night was high
and the cold desert was
all in sound with the wind
and the sand danced
with twisting dreaming snakes

the morning rose
with the voices of merchants
and the prostitutes ones
and the adventurers ones
and the bakers ones
and all the other people
burned by the sun
frozen by the moon

so we started again
our long voyage in this desert
avoiding snakes
and searching for oasis

all here can erode our bodies
all here can drive us mad
all here can rive our ride
but not our broken sandals
filled with the same steps
filled with the same sand

© 2017, Mendes Biondo

2 thoughts on “To Our Broken Sandals

  1. I can imagine probably one one-hundredth of what it must be like to travel in the desert. I’m sure that all the stories in the world would not compare to the reality of the burning, blinding monotony by day…and the surreal (and I am certain, beautiful) but necessary travel by night. Thank you for sharing this with us this month! 🙂


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