Predetermination

A cold moon comes up After the hot and billowing day The black beaks, black eyes White plumed necks And fanged claws masked as talons Still sizzle on the sultry brain There is no safety here It is a long trek to edge of pain The constant circle of the crow The swift alight The turbid swarming of the flight The cawings grow Not trees, barely scrubby thorns Whose shadows hide the struggle Between life and death So urgent nothing is forlorn No snuggles close to happiness One only pause to catch a breath And I walk this Namib place Towards the moon for one embrace