I went to St George in Western Queensland last week. 8 hours of driving and thinking and a few showers along the way. In the midst of nowhere these thoughts came to mind.
When rain falls in the desert
No one knows or cares
Except the person whose feet have
touched the hot earth of the
barren sand and rocks that stretch to eternity,
They are the discoverers of the world,
Waiting, for that touch when life is born.
When rain falls in the desert,
There are a multitude of creatures,
Waiting patiently for the right time to live again,
They haven’t wasted time rushing around,
They are patient knowing
in the desert to try to live too soon is death,
Each drop of rain has a wisdom that knows the right time,
For that creature who has waited for life to come,
Unless, I spend time in the desert I don’t know,
or care about any of this.
The desert is about waiting, and when I wait
I find that a desert isn’t always
made up of rocks and sand and unrelenting heat,
The desert is also in the midst of a teaming city,
Surrounded by people scurrying from one place,
To the next important thing,
Or walking up and down a beach path,
Like rats on a treadmill, locked to rhythms
that is grinding life into dust,
I wonder what is the drop of rain that can fall,
That will allow these creatures to live again,
And, what needs to be unlearned, or discovered,
In the barren landscape of green lawns,
lush gardens and a growing appetite for
more bedrooms bathrooms and comfort.
A drop of wisdom,
Won’t be felt unless our bare feet touch
The hot earth, and barren sand and rocks,
A drop of wisdom, waiting.