Bokor Watching The Western Desert Freeze
the western desert freeze as I become the horizon all their rites were good all their rites shield us
breathe, as I leave for their lands so cold
above this earth - god's heart the wind his blood and this blood is dark nurtured by the hearts of kings in long bloodlines carry this child to the stars
bury this child
like a precious gem to hold wrap her up and let her eyes see
over the plains, over the ridges out into the grey spider lives, birds of light snake born out of flames
on through the valleys, on through the snow crawling home all their rites, to harvest life in rivers of sun
there is no colour in the grey desert there is no sun, only dead silver moons reflecting silent faces
in this world I am but a rock a feather from the thunderbird's tail slowly setting upon the snow in the swift movement of the hand holding the stone dagger oh how it snares the breath of life