The drop of the lazy morning dew
the moist caressed the flesh of this sullen,
sinful plant
sprinkled the spines of the cactus
Thorns situated
at the edge of its leaf
pinching the desire
of whoever touches.
This unbeaten cactus
never ever gave up
for it knows how to live-
enduring the glaring streaks of the sun
living through its reserved liquid-
squeezed every moment
to produce something for its existence.
A gypsy came along-
cupping a handful of water from an oasis.
Sweat ran through his torn corduroy,
bathe with the deceitful rays
from above as he gasped sipping
what was left like a dog
eating after a week's hunger.
Miles were traveled,
the journey's undone
so much has expected
from this circumstance,
An unfilled bottle
and an ancient body bag
clung on his back,
too heavy for his weight-
too large for his stature.
Never did I know this man-
until I looked at the mirror
reflecting a wrinkled persona,
challenged by time,
left by the decades.
The cactus lived within me
as I live through my spirit,
thorned, damaged, left alone-
waiting for the dessert's next winter to come.
:conceptualized after an exhausting day:
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