Waiting

protest groups united in their opposition, security forces … clear hundreds of anti-government demonstrators

A storm is coming across the desert,
the desiccated gather in small groups,
put their eyes down and walk
into the gritty wind.

The desiccated follow
the common sense
that inspires mystics,
a dog at their heels.

The desiccated story is hidden
behind a mask, smoke and dust,
it ends beaten into the hard sand,
spirits delivered to the desert people.

I travel ahead to see
how the story ends,
but I can't come back,
I wait for you to catch up.