rail-thin children
dance on the dry ground
making empty gestures
praying for rain

strange men pass through
longing for drink
the children mouth nonsense shapes
and speak soundless words

"no water here"

alone, alone they dance
to squeeze some mercy from angry gods
like moisture from rocks
it does not come

but still they stay, in this dry month,
bound to the barren earth
by roots of blood
roots of guilt and shame

there is no rest for the weary
in these antique lands
no peace for the dead
only dust.