sand through my fingers

the desert has romance in it

you can feel it in the silence

catch in in your hands

and watch it dance on the edge of the sunset

where the dune meets the sky


the sand won’t be caught though

it will fly

through your fingers

as you keep on trying

for you don’t know better

the sand will fly

for i didn’t know better

and the sand will soothe

and the sand will play

and in its happy disarray

you’ll see what you hadn’t before


the wind is light, it’s getting cool

what does it whisper to the swelling dune

what are those lines it writes on the sand

is it a story, perhaps a romance?

or is that a poem in preternatural verse

of prophecy, of longing, and the perennial dance?


sand flies through my fingers

what makes sand i think

earth and wind and sky

and all that is you, all that is i?

melded in every grain, humanity?

the desert has romance in it

and thirst and hunger and pain

and death

and the dance of the dune and sky


sand flies through my fingers

i wonder where it leads me


after a long time, i went to a desert recently, while in dubai for a holiday. not far from the city, with many tourists, for something called dune bashing and desert safari… pretty kitschy, though great fun. while sitting by myself in a scruffy, unkempt camp, i felt the integrity of the sand, you really can’t scam the desert. there’s something primeval, indestructible in it. i remember thinking, you had to come here to ponder some things, get some answers.


indrani’s index



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