Field Verses by Sarah Klassen Life is not as easy as crossing a field. (Russian proverb) Of what breadth and width is that field you imagine you’ll cross? Half way, hard ground may become quick sand that grips you in its hungry vortex. Or this: Beneath a child’s quick steps undetonated rage lies sleeping. Imagine this field--furrowed or unfurrowed, sun-flooded or wrapped in mystery-- until the moment of explosion. In August an acreage is ripe for harvest. Your father stands chest-deep in it, his fingers rubbing kernels from burgeoning heads of grain. September rains pour, soil is water-logged, harvest machinery bogs down, yellow heads of wheat and barley rot. And what about the property where someone intending a quick crossing, inadvertently stumbles on buried treasure? How could any one pass lightly by, or resist persuasion to sell everything for that? Even a field where lilies bloom is not easily traversed. You’ll want to stop and smell. You’ll touch the waxen petals gently, then, touched by beauty”s brevity, mourn. One day there will be nothing but dust, half-buried stones and a few bleached bones gleaming like pearls in an otherwise empty field.
Sarah Klassen is a Winnipeg poet and fiction writer. Recent poetry publications are The Tree of Life (Turnstone Press) and New and Selected Poems (CMU Press). Awards include National Magazine Awards gold and silver and the Gerald Lampert Award. Klassen’s poems explore both the physical and spiritual aspects of life.
