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The Arch in the Desert

Eric Bonholtzer

Once it was worshiped.
Revered as a temple.
A still obelisk; red sandstone
Wind-whipped but unbroken.

They made their pilgrimage, like
Jerusalem, like Mecca, like
Bethlehem, like the tree of Enlightenment
and time.

Figures fought the sun and wind
To traverse the sand swept plains
Though they could see it, a modern Sinai,
With backs bent with gifts.

For two score days they would wander
Their idol like a needle, pointing onward
Babies cried, the old died,
but when they reached their destination
��Their burdens of presents and sacrifices relieved
they find in their salvation
��That it was within themselves all along.

Now it stands, bent, succumbed as all must to time.
Its worshipers dead or scattered.
It really doesn’t matter as it waits
A living undead monument
��Praying for resurrection
That would someday come
��And all that could be done now was wait.



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