A crude someone is anchored
to his wasteland
where root his speaking-trees
leafless and haggard-
he let his mind to be
an intolerant, blazing sky-
and his love to be a gravel ground
to burn your feet-
his day-blind eyes cannot see
the door opening out
where grace and gentleness lie-
sumanar/lekha 
You have captured the loss and despair of that desert perfectly Sumana. It does seem that the greed of people with too much power anchor into the world we know and destroy all that is good. A powerful and beautiful poem!
I can think of someone anchored in his wasteland of deception. The following is a powerful image, I would say his roots are rotting in his own waste. Can we get a witness? Nay, their tongues have been bitten by the desert snake. (sigh) but, there still remains a doorway of hope.
where root his speaking-trees
leafless and haggard-
Yes, someone springs to mind when I read this. Sometimes the roots of resistance need to lie low below the surface and wait. I long for humankind to go through that doorway to gentleness and grace.
Lost in a prison of their own devise, it seems. An unfortunately common thing. Wonderful writing. You are on a roll.
There are always those who try their best to ties us down
That crude someone deserves his wasteland. If only he wouldn’t hoist it on the rest of us! (I’m supposed to see God in everyone, to have compassion for them. But it’s so hard.)
Locked behind the door of his own choice. It happens so often.
I like that door opening out.
Seems we all identify the “crude person anchored in his own wasteland”, sad to say. I love the term “his speaking trees, leafless and haggard”. Your word pictures are spot on.