Chimera

This is the Zachistka
the cleansing time
the time of pain
of rememberance

I returned from the desert
relieved to have 
a moment
to spare
this tightly coiled notion
but a forked 
tongue
lie
waiting to strike

I drag my fingers
over where 
I left bruises
greening blue
against the pale day

I swirl sand
on the desert floor
like a shattered 
hourglass
spilling time


This is the cleansing
Wishing the wind
would whip
it all
away

NaPoWriMo 2019  Day 18