I never coursed the twilight riverbanks
as you did, narrow translucent frames
of sunset’s red, the white face of moonrise .
This man’s exodus treads sterile desert,
trackless, sometimes illumined
by cold lunar light, more often cursed
by solar sear. My body became
a parchment chart of these wanderings,
dry memorial scars of the paths
I’ve traveled, the steps blown smooth behind me
by winds of time. Scratched words and images
I must recall in finding my way when I reach
these blessed oases of light and life
…you’re reading one.
© 2012 Joseph Hesch