Low In The Fields Of Fire

The leaves quiver in my wake,
and the evergreens stand in silence,
quietly sharpening their needles
lest I accidentally brush up against them.
Not all of nature is pleased with my company,
for my intrusion into their Elysian fields
may portend their own destruction.

Carefully I step upon the path
that bids me welcome, and tread
with small steps of trepidation.
I inhale the shadowed pine, embracing
its scent with the hunger of the drowning,
burdens begin to fall to the forest floor;
wood chips surrounding the chopping block.

The sun now standing at attention,
awaiting the day with expectant warmth,
as I protect my eyes from hope’s glare
and stand unbowed low in the fields
of fire, my shield finely forged, so that I
might venture onto the next plane of conflict.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

nature grudgingly accepting the speaker, and there is a peacefulness to this...there is a displacing of anger, pain, negativity...even though it may only be temporary, this haven can rejuvenate...

as you say, until the "next plane of conflict"

and the other question is...how long will nature accept the speaker, how many times can the speaker find refuge in this place..nature knows what we do to it...how we ruin it.

this is so damn deep...i almost drowned in it.

good stuff, icelandicblue.

[icelandicblue]

Thanks jacob. Nature can be a contemplative place, but you are right, I think that she can only tolerate us to a certain point. Our lamentations must seem like blights upon her beauty.