Thursday 26 December 2019

New Shoots

by Lisa Fields

I am not a traveler—
my roots are loath
to leave their bed
disturb new shoots
that stretch
to drink the light
that falls                                    
at the angle of their need—
past places have no pull,
no call that plucks my cells
to turn my healing
back in time—
and burn—
implore the deepest place
to speak,
expanding truth’s
bright breath—
until the scars
grow supple,
as the buds
of my awakening
drink the light
I choose to see
trickled from the river’s hand
by the dry earth’s touch

* * * * *

Lisa Fields lives in Southwestern New Mexico. Writing poetry expresses her desire to be immersed in a state of balance. Her inspiration comes from the joy of wild places and the challenge to live happily in the domesticated world. She is a contract writer for Quirine Ketterings, Professor of Nutrient Management in Agricultural Systems, Cornell University, Ithaca, NY. In her home state of NY, Lisa served the farming community as an Extension educator for 10 years, and then worked for 10 years as a self-employed advisor.


  1. This captures my feeling rather deeply. Besides, we know we "can't go home again."