Bury the Night

This night glitters with the warmth of tens
of thousands of suns,
far in the black satiny embrace that
envelops those who stay
for too long in the desert.
The amulet trembles with wild emotion
beneath my clothes,
rags touching gold.
Sand scratches my fingers as I dig
deep into the dunes,
years sliding through fingers,
the talisman burns gently, softly,
as I place it down,
far down into the hole.
Quiet screams whistle through the air,
hisses and glimpses encircling me,
soaked in crimson and ash.
I pat the ground firmly,
undoing the damage
of a thousand lives.

By Sonja Kalar