The Fields Know my Name

My brain a fog, my thoughts caving in
The birds do not see me, tears fly like the wind.
The pond lay still, I throw my thoughts into it,
and wait for ripples that will never hit.

The fog clears, sun fully rises
I step into the fields ignoring my guises.
My shadow follows, all through the dirt
Dragging along with the worms feeling hurt.

The field asks nothing of me, only tilts to the wind,
the breeze cold on my thumb.
The fields keep their silence
and my body goes numb.

The soil is soft with old apologies.
I sink my weight into its open mouth.
Something underneath me listens,
but does not rise.

Night gathers what I don’t say.
Stars stitch small holes in my heart.
I stand between what I was
and what refuses to name me.