who was there?

the hill was close

touching my face, kissing my hand

i took several deep inhales

not to grandstand

but to understand

how hard would be the climb

and could i navigate all the way blind?

when confusion and despair

filled the air

in the pitch black dark

who was there?

what was unjust and what was fair?

the music played loud

rattled my senses;

there were scattered villages

separated by indecently high fences

and a monster calling for death

watching people running, 

taking their last breath

indifferently

remorselessly

and the desert has no water

the horse has no name

who's to blame?

who's to praise?

for all those days

when

the drums shake and roll the terrain where i walk,

silently mouthing words but unable to talk.