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?