land is life

Dying tree in a desert is like a lighthouse
as dreams crash against it, rain falls onto
a secret police man's glass eye reflecting
fire, burning floors collapse in buildings in
the village a pregnant woman and her son
have to leave-the moon rests on a track
as a train containing sacks of grain passes
them on there journey.

Soil whispers to seeds, words on a page plead
to an unborn baby for comprehension, rain drops
freeze on a glass eye, conflicts cling to the earth,
ringing echoes linger-an Irish famine. Wishes are
refined as migrants gather to create new communities,
their pens are learning to speak a new language that
cannot be silenced -that of the land.