You gave me a half-choice: stay here, take your hand, go alone.
I decided. My words fell unheard on the sand and the stone.
The sirocco blows wild; spread your wings where the plains meet the sky.
Shadows scatter beneath you like birds on the sand and the stone.
Can you see, love, below you the houses and spires of the towns
rise like hoodoos, their worn edges blurred on the sand and the stone.
Desert canyons scribe patterns; decipher the strata and map
treasures hidden where cinders lie charred on the sand and the stone.
With the clouds as your islands, make port in the sky and the sun;
I will anchor you here, standing guard on the sand and the stone.
I called after you, begged you to stay, but my voice was too faint
and my name erodes, leaving no word on the sand and the stone.
Quick shot at a ghazal this week for our poetry slam at yeah write. I’m torn about the difficulty of this form; on the one hand the requirements are pretty simple, but on the other hand like many “simple” forms writing a good one takes a whole lot of time and editing and rejiggering.