In Valleys Like This

It was in valleys like this that 
the land spoke.  The earth itself shared 
its language of place and time.  The 
when and where of life was known.  The 
earth spoke in a forgotten tongue 
like fingers speak to hands, like hands 
speak to arms, like arms speak to chest 
and chest sings the songs of fingers,  
knows the beat of feet and feels the 
soles' words of water, roots and rock.

This song was known to the singer 
even when unsung, sprung from the 
same womb, as close as cadence, as 
rhythm as rain, as known as the 
nails of one's hands, unnoticed for 
its constant presence.  Its lack is 
the death of us all, its dearth is
a black wall that hides us from our 
selves, our once embraced, now banished, 
bare and prodigal pantheons.