He searched when she was gone -

wordlessly, soundlessly;

did she love him not?

As he marked the earth with his steps,

his salty tears, his blood,

She was far, but he knew,

she would soon be near.

The morn woke him,

he heard her voice crying;

And then,

As he stood before the brown land that lay,

and he knew his beloved cradled within

feeding the earth with her flesh;

he fell upon his knees,

clutching,

hating the land;

crying out.

She had gone;

Knowing her end at hand,

How could he have hated her as he toiled;

searching aimlessly for her?

For out of love, she had left him,

to hate her, to remember her,

only as a bad memory.

But he found her, and he knew.

Lying beneath that unmarked desert grave,

lay the woman he loved,

the woman who loved him.