On seeing a glacier for the first time

Old men are walking down my street.
Those who have paddled the long river
are now stained with red clay,
mouths too dry to have much more to say;
a simple grass tune will suffice
to turn earth into air.
I fear when I look in the mirror
to see I'm not alive - just living,
turn my back on an empty stare.
The earth is bare
and I am barren with it,
just bearing these cold glacier sounds,
echoing broken meanings
too mean to repeat.
Stuck in a broken yesterday
I'll highjack tomorrow
so that I can pray
alone.
My young one is aging
in a time warp too slow to keep up with this primal world.
I'll sleep among the dead and discarded tonight;
watch burning paper fly to some house above.