Between The Corn Stalks Poem by Maria Pilar Conn

When I was a kid I used to run through the corn
having been taught to hide.
I would sit quietly; no one knew where I was.
Once I lay down and fell asleep hearing the song of corn leaves
as they moved like the veil of a bride.
If it was ripe, I would unsheathe its stringy leaves just to smell the sweetness.
My stomach always tightened when I saw the cornfields.
Not from hunger though.
There is no corn where I am now.
No death in the forest, no sweat of fear.
I go up into the mountains to hear the water flow.
I stay under strange pines, close my eyes to dream of corn like gold.
If I open them I will see the blue Indiana sky, the broken white house.
I don't want to die here, far from the corn.
I wish I could lay in the cool Midwest soil,
feel the apprehension,
hearing him searching… calling my name once more…