Beautiful Fields

A sacred ground where many holy wars have been fought
My teachers told me long ago, the war to end all wars would be fought here
The blood that has fed this ground for millennia is mine
What a beautiful field this land has become
Its rolling pastures betrays its bloody past and its dangerous remains
Yet I still crawl across its rich and fertile soil with javelin scar on my side
For there are many, many mines in places to numerous to remember
And though the war has been fought and won on this front
I must remove the traps of death I laid in the distant and violent past
In silence I find them as I inch my way forward
With my dagger prodding the gentile earth
With each sink of the blade I close my eye
Yet with expert skill, I still await the blast that has fallen many
In my quite and tranquil fields
I have not forgotten, Lord knows I have not forgotten
A great iron thunderbolt, a gigantic messenger of death in the ski
That rained pain and longing on my mortal soul
My field is rich now and it will feed many
Olive groves on the western slope and vineyards that face the morning sun
Apricots and figs, and all that is sweet and true
Because I drank the black soup during the wars of old
Now I wear my amazon’s cloak only to keep warm
My bow is only for the sparrow
As I walk in my beautiful field as the evening begins to fall
I look back at the earth that has been cleared for fruit trees and garden and crystal streams
There are no more weapons to be laid


Alysyn said…
Wow, Amara. What amazing imagery you've been able to use in, I assume, describing not only a world you are familiar with externally, but one that has gone through so much turmoil internally as well. I am glad that the fields are fertile now, and no longer war-torn.


Re: Beautiful Fields
Dear Sumana,

I left a comment on this piece on your personal blog, which pertains more to you specifically. What I'd like to comment on now is the metaphorical value of this piece as it relates to transgenderism.

If we reinterpret the "land" to instead be the "body", this poem takes on a new light. The bloody past, the wars, and the dangerous remains symbolize the past anguish of struggling against yourself, living within a male role. During those past times of battle, many mines and death-traps were planted (inner demons), which even though peace has now been achieved, you are still striving to identify, diffuse, and prevent "the blast that has fallen many" (self-destruction). At some point the war was won, either of your own doing, or because a "great iron thunderbolt" came along and tore your life apart, only to soothe it back with falling rain (tears, emotional release).

The victory of truth, and the torrential rains brought in its aftermath, have made your land fertile, beautiful, and rich, with abundance and sustainence overflowing. Your earth has been cleansed of debris, weapons and blood, and is now home for fruit trees, gardens and crystal streams. You are finally at peace and contented within your sacred lands. Yet you remain cognizant and ever vigilant of the land minds previously planted...

Very wise Sumana... very wise indeed. Thank you for sharing.

Much love sister,

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