The Sand


The Sand is like grasping
A hot coal,
Seething enough to burn
My hands.
The Sand!


The Sand, in the blink
Of an eye,
Rides on wind’s fickle back.
The Sand!


The Sand is the language
Of my silence,
Gone wrong.
The Sand!


The Sand is the song
Of my silence,
From loss to reason.
The Sand!


The Sand reflects
Upon the changing vision
Of the world.
The Sand!


The Sand moves
Like shifting patterns
Of our lives.
The Sand!


The Sand!
Theirs and sacred,
Long and living soul of Nomads.
The Sand!


January 2007


Geeta Chhabra


(From the book: An Indian Ode To The Emirates)


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