A Year of Poems – Day 107

I think I go through life dehydrated,
with an aching head that won’t be sated
even after a glass the head thrums on
with the cutting beat that fits no song.
Where is the water that will end the thirst
of my mind for rest, and bring flowers burst-
ing with life to a new birth in this soil
which lies cracked and coated with oozing oil?
All thoughts drown in the earthquakes ravages,
until the mirage of pain vanishes.
I was in the garden all along
with my eyes shut tight against the song.

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