The Language of the Land

Caves overlook
the fractured cliffs
that belong to the moon
and I am witness
to the beauty
of the horizon speaking,
at dusk

I stand in solitude
listening out;
for the earth who knows me
by name
but I cannot hear
as the skies mingle
with the heavens
and my core
is reborn

the trees make their way
around the winding canyons
and valleys
echoes put out
of their mountain range

I hear the sea
crusheing rock into boulder
boulder into sky-
the ashes scattered
to the wind
stirring the language
of the land

and I remain
sworn to the comings
and goings
of dams and rivers
their flow varied
but constant

brazenly unfolding