From salt and sweat we are born,
edges crumbling, tumbling into the sea.
From the day we come, we leave through tubes,
bit by bit
the desert forms from flakes
of sandstone skin.
We are the dunes, velvet grains sifting,
shifting. We are the air,
deathly dry, dying. Parts of us are washed away.
We ebb and flow. The sand is our ocean;
it covers our tears.