Rumi said, there is a field.
Out beyond yonder somewhere.
There is a place beyond right and wrong.
I tell myself, when I’m held down
by lead feet, to the unforgiving ground,
that there’s a field.
That I can roll off the weights,
and find myself, unshackled.
That in the end the only reason I stay bound
is that I tie myself too tight in knots.
I must come unwound.
Then this field,
that I search, so very hard to reach,
I might just find, finds me.
That I might rise to meet it someplace.
Turn around and find myself in thin air.
As maybe it’s not far from here at all.
Meet you there?
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
there is a field.
I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down
in that grass
the world is too full to talk about.”
Image courtesy of Unsplash, Photographer: Jordan McQueen