What remains in the hands
except for the poem?
No one is left in the land
who can steal the flame
carry it toward the fear of saddened faces
No one is left in the land
who can haul the rock
of questions and torments

so who are you
to bear the rock?
the fire?

Who are you ...
language uttered in alien deserts
panting naked
without a body
to gather sleep
from a dying wakefulness?