by Hanno van der Bijl
A silver line simmers ahead on the horizon
We stumble forward in a dry and dusty land
Thirsty, so thirsty;
When will we reach the oasis?
The silver line stretches out in the distance
It seems further away than ever before
Shouldn’t we be there by now?
The silver line begins to disappear as night falls
We fall…and as all hope seems ripped from us
A voice says, “The oasis, is behind you.”