CCI’s Annual Poem

The Desert People

The desert is never what it seems, it’s much like people
The beings we come across, we love dearly
We find that they have been broken, cheated, they have gone through trials and tribulations
They have been violated, mutilated, they have been forgotten

Working in the desert, working in, home means Nevada
You find that many individuals in your home, who reside in your home
Who are your home, are not your family, they are not your friends
They are the ones that come to you for help, before they understand what they seek

They are the ones, that you find, the desert rose, when everyone else thought they were trash
We, are the ones that help to bring not only a voice, but a trumpet, an orchestra
When it comes to the justice that they seek
We are the ones that find the diamond in the rough, because we scrape away the grit
And we find that it has always been a rare jewel
We are the ones, the one, sometimes the only one, that allows them to fall apart
To weep, to mourn the person that they were never able to be
We are the ones, that place a hand on their shoulder “please, let me help you”
We are the ones, that at times, try, try, try and try, again
And we are still not enough, they go back to the cave
To make their fire, and sometimes, they burn out
We are the ones, that become, empty, and vast
We beg for the rain, so that the desert rose may bloom

And sometimes when it rains, it pours, and when it pours, it pours, and when it pours, it pours, and when it pours, it pours, and then, it stops.

We are the ones, that take the earth, to cultivate its soil
So that the desert rose may bloom, we are the ones that give our heart to the desert
And sometimes we are the desert rose
Sometimes we are the ones in need

And that is when we hope to find the rain
Because when it pours, it pours,
I hope you all know, you are the rain

You are the rain for the desert rose
You cleanse it, you nourish it, you hold it
And at times we are the only ones, that ever get to touch it
Because, you give it, what it always had, its
Magnum opus “its life’s greatest work”
You are their orchestra

And at times things will break, things will be broken, but they will mend
And at times they will leave you, they will leave you in disarray
But sometimes, they bloom.

And we are in that space, we are the soil for the desert rose
We are the desert
We are barren, and we are fruitful
We will always be the desert, we will always be home

Home means Nevada
Home means the sage and the pine.

By Farah Rashdan
September 2017