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The Sands Of The Times

i watch you
with a burden,
a big stone and a rope
your neck is thin,
the skin is white and smooth

over there is another
pitiful creature
with another burden
a sword hangs over his head
dwindling

we are watching one another
on a Thursday noon
we are all three
Sufferers

our mouths are gagged
we cannot speak
if only our eyes can speak
the language of the
helpless and the
maimed
the world's ears could have
cracked its
drums

the world's indifference
conceals us
and when we die
we are erased like bad marks
on the sand

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