Stranded

I sensed the settling dust
  Through the fading veil of pain.
Earth's hard, coarse crust
  Pressed my temple's vein.

I twisted, cringed, and rolled,
  And struggled up half-way;
My head fell back and lolled
  On the sun-sintered clay.


And looking up, I saw a sun,
  Pale and pink in cynic solitude,
Balefully disdaining me with one wan eye

As fitful flocks of caustic clouds
  Slowly etched striations
In the dun-tinted sky.