The distant hills shimmer in the heat haze
Ruthlessly, the sun shines to burn the skin
The heat suffocates, without and within,
Making shapes fuzzy in the blist’ring rays!
Sweat beads trickle down his red sunburnt face,
All covered, dressed like a nomad Bedouin
Leave he must, but knows not how to begin,
Under a rock he hides from sun ablaze!
Motionless and transfixed; he squints his eyes
Bright light hurts, he gazes at the horizon
Nary a cloud in the featureless skies
No succor from heat; cracked lips taste poison!
And he drifts into stupor, where he lies
Pondering why he’s here, for what reason!
The sun sets; cool breeze comes at afterglow
From slumber he awakens, he can breathe!
Slowly, he stands up from the sand beneath
A half-moon shines; stars on a dazzling show
Atop a hill, he sees molten silver flow -
River the Maker to all men bequeath
As it snakes northward in the barren heath
Borrowed moonlight makes all the ripples glow!
Brutal day’s gone; he welcomes the cool air
New lease on life as night revives his spirit
Darkness appears, the answer to his pray’r
But hush! Creatures of the night may hear it
He prays that the monsters stay in their lair
So blessings of a new day, he’d inherit!
Salvation comes in myriad paths but one source,
Deceivers there’ll always be, to set us off course!
© Vic A Evora