I am lonely

for my friends.

They liked me,

trusted my coming.

I think they looked up at me

more than other people do.

I who have been staring down so long

see no reason for the sorrows humans make.

I dislike the scuffle and dust of bombs blasting

very much. It blocks my view.

A landscape of sorrow and grieving

feels different afterwards.

Different sheen from a simple desert,

children who say my name

like a prayer.

Sometimes I am bigger than

a golden plate,

a giant coin

and everyone gasps.

Maybe it is wrong

that I am so calm.