Tuareg

[fromcancertocapricorn]

The people who live in the desert
take refuge at noon with camels and dogs
in shadow blocks around them, to drowse
at ease in dreams of water. To me the word drowse already explains that they are at ease. I think here less may be more.
 
They still heed their Master’s voice
‘keep clean the wells, they hold
my living blood.’
 
Their dreams flow like
underground streams while       Underground streams seems like a cliched phrase to use here.
kingdoms build and fall
through centuries around them. I like this sense of isolation here.
 
Their falcon souls fly, searching for
the wrist that never twists away,
the centre that stays fixed
ready for rain’s awakening –
the people who live in the desert.
 
 
 
 
 

I don't think you really make the point of your poem clear to the reader, which, as a fellow poet I can appreciate. However, while I'm sure it makes lots of sense to you during the writing process, it comes off as pretentious obscurity. What is the importance of the people who live in the desert?