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About the land beneath the isthmus
I know this much.
In fetal scrunch it bends its oversized head
Feet curling through fire and ice
Where storms rage and whales sport
Spouting steaming crystal flumes
Reaching toward austral desert
Locked in the perpetual ice of blue black night
Waving pampas grasses silver in moonlight
Gauchos sing their songs at night over
The low murmuring of cattle settling
Darkness steals the sounds and it is quiet
Voluptuous fatigue from virtuous labor
Northward lay its giant neighbor
Christ the Redeemer overlooks the harbor
Lush, moist, fecund, the rainforest reaches into primeval past
Follow the river of no return
Through every twist and turn
To a land unchanged, unmarked, trackless,
The howling of monkeys and the cough of the jaguar
Slash, burn, retreat, the waiting jungle will not be tamed
But comes roaring back to claim its own
Slumber once, the threatening hand will never last
Across the sunkissed crown gentle breezes play
Coconut palms sway to the thrum of steel drums
Carib, Dutch, British, Spanish, Creole
Vivid plumage, dancing rainbows, Vesper whispers
Mystery listens and lures the unwary
Misery awaits those unschooled in history
Projecting vertebral Andes protecting dorsal dreams
Of ancient empires, fierce warriors, master builders
Whose terraced pyramids lay hidden, dark and green
Interrogating their investigators from depths unseen
They sleep still beneath the isthmus of time
And their secrets sleep with them
This much I know
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