Tired

I am stranded in this bare and silent place --
a pilot whose plane has ditched among dry dunes.
My arm is broken and I think that some damage
is internal and bleeding freely, invisible to me.

I turn to face the sun as it sets and I wonder:
Can I walk away from this queer collision with the earth?
I have asked for so little on this strange planet ---
I could die tonight and never look back.

I am tired.