THE DESERTER

Beaten up by the suns harsh rays,

My throat thirsts,

It is choked with sand.

In midst of sunny deserts,

Starved and staggering with a hoarse breath,

Like an old haggard beggar with nothing to own.

Stung by deadly snakes and scorpions

Shoes and clothes ragged from the years and years of wandering.

Struggling in this barren land.

Life is hell indeed.

Searching for a green land, Hunting for water,

Looking for an oasis, as a camel in great thirst.

Not even a cactus to wet my tongue and lubricate my cracked lips.

My eyes are swollen with dark circles. 

I have shed hot salty tears

From the day I was born.

I reminisce of troubles  of long ago,

And wish on death to pay me a visit.

If the wraith won't  suction by breath away,

At least  let me suffer a memory loss.

May my brain go catatonic,

So i can forget all these torments,

To come to oblivion of every pain and  tear.

Lo! I find a tree.

My legs are wobbly from the trek.

I am ready to lean as I exhale in ecstasy,

To hold on to the welcoming  embrace of this price of life.

I put my cheek on the trunk and my arms encircling  in an embrace.

But before I heave all my weight onto it,

Down it goes. 

It had fallen down and together,  I with it,  lay desolate on the hot sand.

Oh!  There goes a deadly scorpion.

Alas it pricks my finger so. 

I sigh. 

"Death. I had yelled in the wilderness and you answered. 

Now,  I meet my maker for I am weary of it all."