I stood there in that desolate desert,
Looking as far as the eyes could see,
The history this place could tell us,
The secrets that it will never reveal,
A local sheep herder in the distance,
Herding his flock with the mastery of ease,
Does it ever cross his mind of his ancestors before him?
Those that walked the very land he is on?
The land is littered with vegetation,
Sparse as it may be,
Yet, life finds a way,
To the far left of him,
A gathering of tents,
Everyday is a fight to survive,
And survive they do,
I will never forget that desert,
A moment of simplicity at its purest,
Solace forever remembered,
It seems those moments are fleeting,
Things were simple back then,
The rules were well known,
Fight to survive.
© 2017 Israel Mercado