A Caravan Across The Desert Poem by J T Jayasingh

There goes a caravan across the desert,
A gang of kids, lads, women and men.
On the way they discover
New mysterious lands to fill.
They invent plastic machines
To alter the universal codes
And later try to detour
Loosing all their hopes.
Red saries burn in the heat
And gold jewels glare in the sun,
Gracious walks stumble
And sweet talks stagger,
Dry wind sourly caress
The brownish hair of kids,
Shrunken fore heads of the wisest
Thoughtfully read the trails,
The drowsy eyes search for omens:
Would it be a winning trip?
Would we reach the Canon?

Somewhere in the darkness
Wolves howl and cry,
Do they bother an oasis?
Have they met a caravan?
Serpents move with deadly venom,
Falcons come back to the centre
Do they tell something?
Are they here to reveal?

How many camels crossed this way!
How many gangs passed!
Leaving trails and traditions
To reach the Promised Land.

A wise man looks at his palm,
Another searches a scroll
While some read stars at night.
There are desperations,
Lost hopes, love, life, death
And the monotony of sand:
Sand, serpent, wind,
Sky, stars and heat waves.


They gasp, sweat and fast
They groan like chained ghosts.
One camel falls and dies
Leaving no clue or reason.
The youngest kids cry for milk,
Some lads are lost on the way,
A young man turns back,
A mother gasps to die
And moves on the caravan across the desert…

The gang moves on…