Across Socotra’s limestone crests they rise
Growing some thirty feet high towards skies
Endemic only to the archipelago’s rocky space
Slow seedlings rise to claim their ancient place.
Upon the scorched and barren height
The dragon’s canopy crown shade takes flight
It looks like inverted umbrella, wide and grand
Conserving critical moisture for the desert land.
When the heavy mist slides over the crest
Now the upward leaves perform their quest
They capture the dew, they drink the cloud
And funnel the life through branches bowed.
Beneath Dracaena’s rough, weathered hide
A bleeding resin’s legendary fire abides
The dragon sheds tear in grief, crimson stained
To keep the ancient myth of Socotra sustained.
The gathered resin aids a hundred human needs
It heals the wound, and paints the scholar’s beads
It serves as a sacred incense for the temple hall
Cosmetics, and a radiant varnish on the castle wall.
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