Jacarutu

If one spends a decent chunk of childhood in the desert or semi-desert it leaves a mark on you. I am perhaps still part desert creature. Maybe this was a cause of my fascination with Dune.

 

no sound but the wind in the desert

sifting, shifting, sand

haze

mirage

shimmer

 

the crescent dunes are wandering

moving, meandering, mine

dry

whitened

bones

 

twister turns upwards to the sun

thermal, timing, turning

arid

lifting

up

 

scentless sounds carry the call

curving, coiling, calm

hint

distant

far

 

Jacurutu, a whisper and a memory

saffron, sesame, spice

time

ago

long

 

down the passage of passing

lost, losing, left

back

behind

hidden

 

only the blind can see in the desert

sifting, shifting, sand

haze

mirage

shimmer

 

futures held in the balance, sway

bending, blending, born

now

dying

dry

 

labyrinth lathes carve the cliffs

searing, seeming, shown

paths

dwindle

off

 

in Jacurutu the secret is safe

saffron, sesame, spice

time

ago

long

 

but never forgotten.