Verse 58
I crossed the salt country where the wind had erased every road, and the Earth beneath me seemed older than direction.
I crossed the salt country where the wind had erased every road, and the Earth beneath me seemed older than direction.
At noon she was brass. At evening she became violet. By night she carried the cold with such elegance that I called her Mother though I am no son of clay.
We of smoke envy you sometimes. You can press your hand to the ground and feel something refuse to pass through you.
Do not laugh. Resistance is a kind of companionship.
The wanderer curses the stone until the storm comes; then he blesses the stone that shelters him.
Thus are judgments made by weather.
Al-Ard has swallowed armies without learning their banners.
She has carried lovers who believed the moon witnessed only them.
She has borne liars, prophets, merchants, saints and jackals with the same grave patience.
I asked the dune what justice was. By dawn it had moved and buried my question.
I asked the well what mercy was. It answered only those who lowered a bucket.
Learn this from the world of weight: some gifts require descent.
One day the ground will testify with your footprints, your spilled water, the ash of your fires, and the places where you chose not to step.
Walk, then, as one who knows the dust is taking notes.