Member-only story
The Poetic Mind
3 min readMay 8, 2020
The Field
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there. — Rumi
When you asked me to meet you
halfway,
I had no idea
how far that might be,
since I’ve been traveling in the dark
for some time now.
My night vision is poor
and there are no markers
where the road runs toward deep mystery.
I have walked in this valley
with its shadows
all my life,
seeing things slant, like your Emily Dickinson.
Because I was born by
a river of inherited sorrow,
I assumed I should follow it.
That it might lead me one day
up and out of the valley.
When I heard your song
out on the high plains,
your voice was so soft and sweet,
I nearly missed you,
nearly missed the strength
beneath the softness.
