By Allayna Benedict
Desierto de Chihuahua
The desert is unforgiving,
Relentless in its burning heat.
Filled with coarse sand
And sharp cacti.
But the first thing I knew
Was an all enveloping heat,
So similar to the oblivion
Of the Before.
The arid earth dried out
And a stillness on those dunes.
The glaring sun that
Flows through my veins,
And the dusty air that wraps around me
Like a second skin.
This decrepit land was my home
Before I ever knew of cold rain,
I knew storms of sand and wind
And a fire that burned just as fiercely
As the desire in my heart.
I was built from sandstone,
Tumbleweeds for hair,
Borrowed bones and a kiss from the sun,
An inferno breathed against my lips
And soft ashes pressing into my skin.
The desert was my home,
And I tried to drown the blaze,
Filling it with water and rain and lush forests,
To hide that I was birthed through the decay
Of a once lively ecosystem.
Drinking tears to satisfy that aching throat,
Knowing I’ll never feel alive
Unless I burned in the desert fire.
Allayna Benedict is an undergraduate student at Texas A&M majoring in English. She grew up in El Paso, Texas, and has been writing poetry since she was 13. She got her first poem published when she was 16 with the America Library of Poetry, leading her to decide to pursue a degree in literature and writing.