I awoke in the desert
At night, with starlight
Illuminating the white sand.
There were sharp mountains
In the distance, with flashing lights
And beams that searched
All around me.
I crawled to hide behind a
Gnarled shrub that snarled
At me and caught my clothes.
And at last I fell asleep.
But woke to the same
Sand, white as bones,
But now, black-clad ghosts
Float past me, weaving
In and out of each other,
Their robes fluttering
In the hot wind and dust.
The only humans I see
are children,
Who scamper and smile.
Though they seem to be alone
And poor, they have their toys:
Pots and pans, old sticks and a doll’s leg,
Blackened at the  joint.
Perhaps children in some other place
Play with the rest of it, content.
But I notice that they are looking,
Always looking for something.
ماء! نريد الماء!
Ma'! nurid alma'a!
I want to answer
But cannot.
I don’t know what they mean.

Ocean spray flays ancient cloisters,
Darkening already withered stone.
Moonlit towers crumble, humbled
By the weight of stolen thrones.
Sound proclaimed in hollow domes
Found shallow, wanting and alone.
While wind rips down forgotten walls
Tapestries tap out in hallowed halls.
Memories shed shadows in the fall.
The call of rust, echoes of war.
Ruin and dust for now and evermore.