You had to work 9 words and a phrase into a story, poem, etc. I wrote a submission and was very pleased with it...then forgot to submit it by the deadline. So it goes. Outside of the context of the contest, the wording seems a bit affected. But I still like the poem.
If you're willing to post or email your interpretation...I'm always interested in how different people interpret poems differently.
Life on the Desert
I will come to you,
Trailing crude footprints,
their creature no more;
In this war I am willing contraband,
A premonition of zeitgeist,
A sort of penance:
A gift, wrapped in propaganda,
The sum of questions they forbid me to ask.
I extend a patterned hand:
A lick and a promise from a dying order
Making opaque gestures;
They still think power shall return to them,
They think I shall return;
For they are al-kitab – a scriptured people,
And the scriptures say all shall return;
The mantic words say we shall be bathed in holy light,
Reflected on your face by a semilunar blade:
Both our worlds so bathed in death,
And you shall be defeated, forbidden,
Lost, your ritual destruction reduced to mere praxis.
But they are wrong:
All shall live in altered sweetness, after;
These unexpected spoils of war.
I come to you,
The taste of halva, like the body of their salvation,
Made clean and meaningful again,
Your sapid skin upon my tongue,
And these days of sand bringing ataraxia,
This quiet toil will bring absolution,
Understanding so pure that I must veil my eyes,
For change is the gift of knowledge, exposed and raw.
And finally, I come, ascetic and devoted,
To the world that is written, where the days
Shall be drenched in the harsh sunlight of promises no longer broken.