Seeing Clouds, Seeing Crumbs
I see a cloud; no bigger than a man's fist
nothing on the horizon but dust
I see bleached dry bones; picked clean by wild dogs
the valley echoes with their howls
I see riverbed reeds; snaking in the current
a man bathes his blistered skin
I see a corpse; a little girl
so peaceful she could be sleeping
I see puppies; yapping at the ankles of the dinner guests
snatching up the crumbs that fall
I see a moonlit brawl; the glint of silver
a loud cry and a man's ear sliced clean
I see a woman drawing water; thirsty Midday sun
she'd hoped to slip away unseen
I see a solar eclipse; birds shrieking overhead
the guttural shouts of a mother's grief
I see two women laughing; tears in their eyes
a baby stirs and leaps in the womb
I see a blade of grass giving; bending with the wind
what did I expect to see?
This lonely figure; scorched, cracked like old pottery?
This quietness, this sadness?
These rugged, calloused, empty hands?