Uphill we walk
watched by the birds
who don’t name us
lumbering through mud
snapping twigs
an awkward species
we’re watched by time that doesn’t tell us
doesn’t change
we are the hands on the dial
we are escaping sand
and alarms at dawn
we’re watched by the murdered eyes of innocents
who don’t know us
don’t know their slayers
slaughtered but not conquered
we walk as the skies open to a storm
rivulets
then streams
running down the mountain
like backward time.