Field Poem by Anisa Tara

When I think of her
I think of a field that is endless
That the eye cannot contain
For which measurements are petty
That none of us could possibly traverse
It is in the unmet corners of this field
Where my longing for her will draw to a close
Where this dull ache of a river severs
Where the sails of my suffering find their rest
Memories fewer and further between
Like the blades of grass
That ebb here and flow there
Diminishing pearls of wheat
Humbled forests of paddy
Their rhythms bow to the song of longing
It is always painful
But it is still beautiful
Because it's all I have left of us