Outside the shuttered windows
Across the empty space
The lights of the city
Fade without a trace
We walk down the path
Beneath the crimson sky
My fathers eyes, like ice
As we say a brief good-bye
Good-bye
I can hear the pounding drums
In the rhythm of my heartbeat
I can feel the ancient fires
My blood burns with their heat
In a race for survival
For the survival of our race
We each test our fitness
Against the trackless waste
Over the mountains
Over the burning stone
The sky turns to stars
I push on and on alone
I move through the darkness
Past my hope, past my fear
Up the steep rocky slopes
No second chances here
The air, cold and thin
Flails at the land
The blood stains the stone
In the image of my hand
I listen to the darkness
I look for the sounds
I can feel the fires
I can hear the drums
Frank J. Hernandez
Copyright ©2000 Frank Hernandez