Who Are We Anyway? Poem by RIC BASTASA

on a dry season like this
arid as cracking lips
we wish upon a dream of a rainy night
we can be playful again like children
watering plants for mama
she died ten years ago
without tasting a rain dropping from father's
skies
we were groomed for the gravel
our world is a stone
till now, we wish there were more of us
despite the pain
and the horror of falling rocks from cliffs
the sounds of pebbles grating
against the sands of the
shore
it has a very indifferent face
the one that does not care
the one that swears we were never humans
but stones and
carts and rusty wheels squeaking upon
those drifting clouds
those that move to no direction at all
we sometimes think we are the wind
we are those that howl
like foxes in those crowded mountains
we are the friends of worms
still wandering in the hollows of our
silent worlds....