While America sleeps 
someone stealthily mixes
their cocktails.

While America sleeps
someone sends their child
off to twenty hours
down the mine.

While America sleeps 
I’m waiting for day
in the cradle of halloween worlds

wondering if the news is good —
are they talking to each other
are they talking?

Do they open their lips
so that their mouths
can declare our praise?

Do they stand or kneel
for the occasion
and when their sins are listed
do they beat their chests
with fists clenched
over blinkered hearts?

* At the time of the Camp David Peace Talks
between Israel and the Palestinian Authority.
 

Inheriting The Earth: Over Ireland

From up here the roads look deserted
(the cars too small to see)
the fields crocheted 
around wooded regions
and clumps of refracted light.

It makes the dwellings
look inviting and perhaps they are —
the Wren Boys out at Easter
and the corn dollies 
dancing in the barn through their winter nights.

It looks like butter
wouldn’t melt in its mouth
and yet, 
and yet it is no different
from our own land
seen through the clouds
people-less and waiting 
for the meek.
 

Translation

Sitting within the dream 
 they discuss how much of this
how many of that
light slanting into the grey room
between branches 
and the dampish day —
we are not locked into the vagueries
of making peace or hardening hearts
ignited expectation raises us into
a warmer space where we can learn
the dignity of many tongues.