A house..

I will build myself a house of stones

picked among the finest of the Adrar.

It will be the color of spice:

cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, saffron.

A house like those made by nomads;

built thinking of now,

with no thought for tomorrow,

or permanence.

It will have sharp and uneven edges,

and cracks between the stones

letting in rays of light mixed with dust

in the afternoon heat,

cool air in the evenings

and the very rare morning mist.

From time to time,

I will lean against the front door

and look into the horizon,

letting the wind caress my hair,

thinking of lost moments,

with bare feet dug into the sand,

counting stars against the burning sky.

And when I'm gone,

because my heart can't resist the wind's call,

the house will remain

a playground for goats,

an occasional refuge for herders,

a familiar feature in the landscape.

Time will pass;

my footprints

vanish.

Only a mound of rocks will stand

where happiness

once found me.

Sonia Z.