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They all walked across the soil of stone
Which was covered with a reddish dust -
Heading for the walls of the holy Smara,
Feeding themselves on hope and trust.
The wind of desert blew continuously
Very hot during the day
Rather cold at the dark night
Before they began to pray.
At the top of the hill
Near the tomb of the saint
There was a silence... of suffering
As if the world had stopped moving.
They all wanted to get to the North
Where water, fertile lands, hope, liberation
Were all waiting for them
To build their life in a peaceful nation.
(April 2010)
Maria C. Costa
| Submitted Date |
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Saturday, April 24, 2010 |
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Poets
