We drew maps showing river deltas,
our path predicted by the contours
of our fingerprints, and we followed
our spirals forever away from home.
Where there was water once,
we marked those places on the maps
and gave them names from dreams.
We camped beneath aircraft carriers,
marooned a hundred miles inland,
and spent nights watching our flames
flicker and dance
like tortured acrobats
laughing us to sleep
against the rusted hulks
of ruined navies.
In the mornings, we watched
the sky for clouds or crows
and threw rocks at the sun.
The rains never came.
We moved on.
—
This began as a response to Read Write Poem’s NaPoWriMo prompt # 17: Something Elemental provided by Neil Reid.
James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.
I want to go back to Big Bend after reading this. Somehow your words created the space of the desert.
Thanks, Pamela. I’ve never been to Big Bend. I’d like to go some time. This was actually sparked by a conversation about the area around the Aral Sea. I glad to hear that the desert came through in this.
A poignant story of listless nomads. Well done.
Thanks, Heather.