and the singing birds slaughtered.

I saw the horse,

the soldiers,

the grieving women,

the dead trees, and other women

inured to screams and wailing.

 

I saw the streets, the gusting wind,

the sports cars

racing by, the boats, the innocent kids.

 

I said, ‘Master of the Water, this is

how things are: tell me about the clay,

the fire, the smoke, the shadows, the smell

of reality.’ Deliberately, I did not ask

about our homes.