feet and eyes  
these are all I use
       to find my way      
my ears have been open  
hearing the drums in the nascent night  
soon begging for morning light
for the sounds carry the solemn songs
of the slaughtered and enslaved  
I have masterfully managed to evade
but  
sometimes
their holy
imploring eyes
their maimed
sacred bodies  
come into two dimensional view, and  
I steal fleeting glances
but allow no chances for them
to take
human form  
I let them lay
in the fallow fields
among the bones
where their epitaphs
are written by the wind
where their last gasps are heard
only by other famished wanderers
who like I had feet and eyes
but whose drums in the night
were not untold tales
of the forgotten, the forlorn, the wretched
but death chants
just beyond the horizon
just over the edge of my
blind corpulent world  
where I could hear
their muted emaciated cries  
yet not have to see
their holy and hollow, dying eyes