Behind faces and gestures <br />We remain mute <br />And spoken words heavy <br />With what we ignore or keep silent <br />Betray us <br /> <br />I dare not speak for mankind <br />I know so little of myself <br /> <br />But the Landscape <br /> <br />I see as a reflection <br />Is also a lie stealing into <br />My words I speak without remorse <br />Of this image of myself <br />And mankind my unequaled torment <br /> <br />I speak of Desert without repose <br />Carved by relentless winds <br />Torn up from its bowels <br /> <br />Blinded by sands <br />Unsheltered solitary <br />Yellow as death <br />Wrinkled like parchment <br />Face turned to the sun. <br /> <br />I speak <br />Of men's passing <br />So rare in this arid land <br />That it is cherished like a refrain <br />Until the return <br />Of the jealous wind <br /> <br />And of the bird, so rare, <br />Whose fleeting shadow <br />Soothes the wounds made by the sun <br /> <br />And of the tree and the water <br />Named Oasis <br />For a woman's love <br /> <br />I speak of the voracious Sea <br />Reclaiming shells from beaches <br />Waves from children <br /> <br />The faceless Sea <br />Its hundreds of drowned faces <br />Wrapped in seaweed <br />Slippery and green <br />Like creatures of the deep <br /> <br />The reckless Sea, unfinished story, <br />Removed from anquish <br />Full of death tales <br /> <br />I speak of open valleys <br />Fertile at men's feet <br />Overgrown with flowers <br /> <br />Of captive summits <br /> <br />Of mountains, of clear skies <br />Devoured by untamed evergreens <br /> <br />And of trees that know <br />The welcome of lakes <br />Black earth <br />Errant pathways <br /> <br />Echoes of the faces <br />Haunting our days.<br /><br />John Burnside<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/landscapes-10/
