They say poets have imaginative super powers

I'd describe it as having super courage, to reopen our scars,
peeling back layer upon layer of carefully constructed skin,
woven with purpose to suppress our forbidden haunts,
into the hollows squashed between dissected organs and fractured bones.

Poetry, my soul bearer, life alterer, my reflection and my most favourite of gifts.

Rain is the dearest thing to me,
for I am born in a desert,
and for desert,
rain is life sent to a dead land.

I am a desert boy,
so I can smell rain coming,
even hours ahead,
and I wait for it to come,
with all my heart.

For some of you,
a rainy day may be a bad day,
and a sunny one called a good day,

But for desert people,
the good days are only,
the few days that it's raining.

I've lost my compassion
I was adamant I packed it in my bag this morning

I can't seem to find it anywhere...

Walls too high,
too thick
can't dig under it.
doors cemented up,
I can't change that.
Standing outside
barefoot
on cold ground;
gravel's too rugged
to lay down,
shadows cast
a losing lot.
All I got's
a dwindling spark,
yet,
here I am
riveted to the spot.
Stand I or be cripled.
One of us will crumble,
but my will
will not.