Empty Field

Poem – Direct Dreams

In the fractured sleep of night’s immersed
in dreams based in nothing familiar or known,
one word repeated over and over – direct.

I watched power-less as background images
of tall buildings, lattice, and cross-stitched patterns
rotated and approached my view with ever increasing velocity.

At the end (or beginning) of a tunnel
bathed in wavering light with no sound
a shadow slowly approached.

The sides of the tunnel began to
move and rotate, grey lines
and intricate patterns covered everything.

and I briefly lost sight of the shadow
until something pushed me through
and I landed on the empty fields

near the forest where we first
met in ancient times and you
silently spoke directly to me.

Returning from Alaska

Returning from an Alaskan retreat, I am different.

Nothing earth shattering and most likely not noticeable to most people I come into contact with.

Back home, the sky has not changed, the trees stand tall against the summer blue, and the grass is coarse from overdue rain.

Obligations, bills, demands, job – waited at the front door for the week to pass and my return.

Emails arrive in the overflowing inbox and the phone still rings.

Lines form at registers waiting for morning coffee.

But something is different.

I left here in a chaotic state, doubts of the pathway I built and have stayed on, despite the uncertainty. I was clinging to the next day or week, hoping that it will be different from today, that if I just hold-out, the answers and next direction will reveal themselves.  I had become complacent and stagnant.

How many years was I going to relinquish control of my path to outside forces with unknown names and unfamiliar faces?

Something is different now that my feet are on the ground here. What happened up there in the Alaskan wilderness?

I walk to the backyard and stand on the cement patio with coffee.  The morning sun rays begin to touch treetops and the golden glow is stark against the deep blue sky.  But I do not see this and I do not hear the ravens playing in the fields beyond the hill.

Lost in some thought I cannot place, my eyes close and I am back in Alaska with a river stretching to the base of distant mountains.  I am flying above glaciers and standing so close I can taste the cold.  I am riding an ATV through forest and open fields until I stand overlooking the river valley and and lose myself to the silence, the beauty, and the immense landscape.

That is what I see now that I am back home.  Now that I have returned from an Alaskan retreat, the burdens I left here with have been replaced with nature, tangible things I can see, touch, smell, taste.  Things that will my mind and push everything else out.  In return for this gift, I am more silent, thinking before I speak, and keeping more calm and control of myself as I attempt to cope with the present and push for a different future that I create.

 

Poem – This Planet

Beyond the fields of flowers
reaching the horizon,
another field exists
reaching beyond the stars.

This home, this planet
floats in the endless
expanse of space though
fields of time and gravity.

We harvest the land
and pull sustenance from the earth,
while we gaze upon the heavens
and the possibility of other life.

https://iso.500px.com/usa-night-sky-photos/ Farming the Rift III by Aaron Groen on 500px.com

Poem – Beast

Do each of us have a monster inside
a beast we strive to hide from the
world, those close we love, and from our self?

At the end of each day
what are we truly running from?

What shadows lurk in the forest
and what shadows do we carry?

Across the fields with scattered snow
mountains rise from the earth

in spires of solid granite,
nearly featureless – how will

this barrier be overcome?

Standing at the base of the mountains
what hope I brought here

disperses on the cold wind
scouring the surface of the empty fields,
those fields I left behind years ago
when the beast chased me away.

Poem – In Unbound Dreams

In unbound dreams
steeped in limitless colors
the machines sleep.

Metal skin glistens
as another day begins,
as our held breath releases.

We start with the same promise
that this will be the last day
and we will stand here united.

On this war ground with the rising sun
we circle the sleeping machines…

Poem – The Sky Gave Nothing Away

I stood at the base of a mountain
on a world far from where I thought I was born

and fought the descending wind
gathering snow and ice.

The sky was void of any star
yet shadows moved across fields.

The sky gave nothing away
and kept directions secret.

Crossing snow bridges
and stepping between tall seracs

I moved away from the mountain
into unknown horizons.

Poem – The Wanderer, part 3

In the middle of a field

empty from horizon to horizon

I wandered beneath empty skies

until the fog appeared and I

changed direction toward

the emerging mass of white

devouring the sky.

 

I wandered faithfully

but with diminishing hope

that at the end of this journey

I would find salvation.

Poem – Across the Salted Plains

Across the salted plains
We watch the sun fall
The moon rise
The machines sleep.

In dreams spaced by 100 years
I see you on the highest peak
Of the homeland we once
Ruled together.

I woke in the snow blanketed forest
Facing the morning sky.

Tenants of dreams fill each fiber and neuron,
I can only piece together that I was not made for this world.

I lost direction when the void
Overtook my body and my mind
Accelerating through space
Toward unexplored, unknown, and untouched worlds.

Where is our home now?

Above photo from: Nancy Chuang

Poem – Emerging

Emerging from the forest
through the last barrier of this life,

beasts of the past intertwined with shadows
roam through the open field playing out their purpose.

Standing out of their way as
I am a visitor passing to the next life.

Crossing the field I am met
by concrete and metal machines.

Is this my next life
or only a preview of the coming revolution?

Smoke fills the darkened sky.

I forget where I am.

The field merges with the horizon.

Beasts disappear – were they even real?

Trees bend and in unison lift me from the field.

Passing through smoke filled dreams of the past or future
I emerge at the base of granite peaks.

Poem – The Last Day in This Flesh

The last time I exit the empty field,
crossing over the still black water
will be the last day in this flesh.

On the other side the machines
wait with steely patience
where they have stood for years.

When we next awaken from what seems like a dream
we will be near the base of Mons Olympus
at the start of the next life.