When the News Anchor says the Driest Desert on the Planet is in Bloom

A Poem by Rosa Gilbert

And the LORD will guide you continually 

and satisfy your desire in scorched places 

and make your bones strong; 

and you shall be like a watered garden, 

like a spring of water, 

whose waters do not fail. 

— Isaiah 58:11

This heart beneath frail bones 

sunbaked, 

shriveled, 

sunken. 

A driest of dry places 

wilting, 

withering, 

waning. 

Heartbeat after heartbeat 

faint, 

feeble, 

fading, 

barely a whisper, an upward 

murmur, 

mutter, 

mumble. 

But rain arrives early this year 

invoked, 

implored, 

invited. 

Suddenly, a purple blanket, cistanthe longiscapa* 

buds, 

blooms, 

bursts. 

Like in Isaiah’s oracle— 

prophesied, 

promised, 

provided— 

a scorched desert turned watered garden. 

*A native flower species that grows in N. & N. Central Chile. It is an annual and grows primarily in the desert or dry shrubland biome.

Rosa Gilbert is a publishing assistant at Calla Press Publishing LLC. Born and raised in the Dominican Republic, Spanish is her first language, but it was through learning English that she fell in love with words. Her work has been published at Ekstasis, Clayjar Review, The Way Back to Ourselves, Vessels of Light, Prosetrics Literary Magazine, among others. She lives in Ohio with her husband and daughter. You can find her writing at: https://rosagilbert.substack.com/ and @rosagilbertpoetry.