Rumi's field

Rumi’s field                                                                                               

Rumi’s field – beyond ideas

of wrong-doing and right-doing –

is not so far away. 

I’m running my hand

along the top of its fence.  It was never

a great distance to traverse

but a coming to a halt, turning the handle

and swinging wide the gate.

No one to meet me there but myself,

unencumbered of my knothole view.

Ah, to lie down burden-free

in that long grass with the wildflower scent

in the sun-warmed field, upheld

and surrendered like a body on the ocean face

letting the current move me where it will.

It’s so near, just over the fence,

and I won’t leave without a fight

or find a way through its summoning gate.

O child of God, not far away nor far in the future.

Seek advice from your constant Companion.