Waterfalls Land of Dry
In the land of dry waterfalls
Turquoise cliffs cast violet shadows
On amber rocks.
For thousands of years
These valleys had been
In clutched possession of silence
All these years nothing had stirred
Only calm dissipated in eerie quietness.
But at last a wren had to sing
Making thousands of swallows follow her lead
An indigo rivulet snaked and devilled
Through veins of cascading sands.
Nobody knows from where this all appeared
But some children tell they had seen a shaman
With beautiful dark emotionless eyes
Pulling out needles from a doll’s body
And the spell broke as the baby cried.