The desert doesn’t have to be quiet.
The rocks could scream in sympathy
For the pain that we’ve agreed to receive.
Its thorns could crown our suffering,
The sound of the wind could be weeping.
But it urges us to be strong
In being alone, in knowing silence.
Afternoons like these, it will not be seen
Except in transparencies of light and mist,
The disappearance that admits understanding.
