Desert Storm Poem by Alice Kriel

Low and grey they lie,
heavy and pregnant,
waiting to give life
to this land so ardent.

Flat earth extending to the horizon
broken only by hills,
nearly touching their fellow
barriers to the sun.

Ahead the sky has ripped, cloaking our future
Still-standing windmills flash past,
houses same-seeming since
the writing of the Holy Script.

The first liquid crystals hit our chamber,
spraying water webs on my window
The air lifts and we can breathe,
Rolling through a land of slumber.

The water falls,
silvering the road
Lakes in the “wasteland”
Around us, thunder calls.

Wind nearly knocks us from our path
The rain lifts my spirit;
lightning flashes in this strange dark,
the power of the Creator’s staff.

Suddenly it is done:
standing water only witness
with life-giving red mud.
Through the truly Great Karoo we ride on