on the way to Jericho

On the way to Jericho,
a Bedouin on the road, nods off

sleepy hills, sugar mills
a stray donkey that looks tamed

old dried salt, white, so white
and the smell of phosphates

three signs to count down to the edge
of meters you proceed to attain below the sea

below the earth yet still above
a change of atmosphere and dried skins

dried sins, mount of temptations
monasteries in the desert

try this, taste that, kneel
says all the same devil

palm trees swinging,
this is the road ahead, singing

on the tour bus that takes you
no stranger but oddity

from head to toe,
think about the times you have fallen

in the lowest points of earth
on the way to Jericho, how many times
you lay thinking
that even barren earth can still give.