JeffMeyer

We will come for you...

Mother's bones are hard and smooth,
bursting from these desiccated sands
in towers and spires that haunt the dead
and stand aloof despite each day we tread--
never closer, never kinder,
never showing us the way to make our stand.

We've seen our lives against the stone
silhouetted by the moon's stained swath,
dreamed of children and warriors and stones and bread,
remembered days when men and women wed--
and there were children, always children,
not like these days when all we feel is the wrath.

We are coming for you...

Smiley24_7

When I was growing up, there was this old stone tower of some sort that barely stood on its own, it was practically a ruin. There hopefully was no bones, but it felt dead. There was the same eerie feeling at its emptiness and the emptiness around it. I like how this captures that.

I think your desert wrath, in all honesty, does much more justice than my own desert wrath.