"the dust of your passing"

 

Blessed be the weight of your heel 

upon the scree, 

you who crossed the salt-flats 

before the rains came back. 
 

The air still holds 

the shape of your breathing; 

the stones you overturned 

are still cooling in the wind. 

I do not know your name, 

nor the house of your kin, 

but I walk 

in the shallow trench of your stride.

 

 

 

 

 

 

.