Tuesday, July 30, 2013

I walked through a far field

©  Steve King  2013
All rights reserved

I walked through the farthest field,
where winds rose and long grass bowed.
It would be too much to assume for myself
a solitary power that would move the winds and grass;
a power to call spirits of earth and sky
out from age-long slumbers.

I say that if there are spirits still, they must wait—
withholding sky-borne charms and earthy nods—
and slumber on, imagining better days
to yield a truer prophet,
a shaman or a seer
to utter, even blind, for them.

It is only the least of breeze,
born of the distant sun,
that stirs long grass,
touching all the things that have no care
for great spirits and ages and airs;
a hovering beat that will not sing
until that day when spirits
must gather for real, or not ever;
when spirits might bring lightning
to invest a new waiting dawn.
No saints nor prophets on the path,
shamans or seers to invoke;
though the winds do seem
to whisper in tongues
upon indifferent ears;
though grasses still bow from afar.

For now, the winds and grass,
and those who merely walk,
are caught up surely in the old slow dance:
restless and unready all at once,
glad for something, if only new days,
moving as those tremors move,
that ripple through the patient spirits’ dreams.


  1. "No saints nor prophets on the path,
    shamans or seers to invoke;
    though the winds do seem
    to whisper in tongues
    upon indifferent ears;..."

    Winds whispering in tongues, indeed...I love your word choice and where this poem took me, Steve. Beautifully penned.

  2. this made me think of walking the gettysburg...which is always a stilling spiritual journey for me...the wind whispering in tongues....the least of breeze, so close to the least of these...smiles.

  3. Enjoyed your poem, there is something about being out in the bush when the wind does rise...there's a feeling that you're not alone. :)

  4. I love the wind whispering in tongues, every line beautiful.

  5. Very literary - graceful allusions throughout, and pertinent philosophical questions. One, many, out of many, for many and a man walking the path of others yet always his own way in his own time. Terrific use of language. Really good.

  6. Haunting, in a good way.


  7. Very well done, love the crafting of this.

  8. I've never thought of spirits as patient, but perhaps they are, perhaps they must be. The wind as their breath, whispering through grass, a lovely sound, indeed.

  9. There's nothing better than being caught up in that old slow dance... this is beautiful.

  10. Your language here...beautiful...Your company of shamans and spirits...magic...reminds me somewhat of my own walks with spirits and history...on the English moors. A truly beautiful poetic capture, Steve. One of my faves :) xo ~jackie~

  11. Such graceful movement through the poem as well as through the grass. Peaceful.

  12. What is it about nature that is so essential to us.... It and our bodies are one, all our racial memory , dna , evolutionary experience, to part with it is such a bitter experience, comdemns us to decay.......thanks mate , really enjoyed it

  13. There is a hint of mysticism in your words Steve ~ It made me think of other things that moves our world, certainly spirits and powers beyond our imagination ~

    Have a lovely week ~ And I am still waiting for my book to arrive, smiles ~

  14. New days are something to be very glad of! I am reminded here of a Wallace STevens sort of perspective - that very interesting interplay between nature and the humans walking about around her trying to impress their sense of order. Really interesting poem. k.