This desert cries dry tears
in remembrance of the vivid life
of a forest born of fears
and flowers springing from strife.

The ground here is cracked
and with peace razed
Each flower the dunes lack
dried in bright rays

of sunlight,
no canopy shield
as in the forest night
no words the desert yields.

Suffering rooted in each forest flower
beauty sprung from each drop of rain
The sun came, words more dry each hour
under each happy dune a new well of pain.