Returning to the Fields

Image, (based on a poem by T’ao Ch’ien)

 

When I was young,

I ran from the farm,

the road my only friend.

 

At twenty I got away,

bird in the branches

remembering a cage;

fish in the sea seeing

the edge of a tank. 

 

Yet, here I am again,

a room high above 

the street, thinking

of those fields. 

 

A cat yowls.

Geese fly.

 

So many years I

have been jailed 

in my freedom.

 

Suddenly, I feel 

myself again. 

 

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Returning to the Fields

  1. Our freedoms arrive when we begin to savor our old imagined prisons. Our prisons return when we remember our former freedoms.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s