“Man on a Hill”: A Poem

In the spirit of exhuming old works from the grave, I give you Man on a Hill. Circa 2002.

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Man on a Hill

On the day of the night

when the world caved in,

a man sat, silent, on a hill.

His watery eyes

raised high to the sky,

his hands

clutched tight to a bowl.

The bowl, at first sight,

seemed lost

and forlorn.

But the second

told you no lies.

The sky wept here once

with rains of regret

and the core of the earth

peered from within.

When thunder began

and wails of rape sang,

the man sat quietly still.