oh
the long grasses in the field are so
beautiful
full of grace
wind-swayed
the strand of stem bends
under the silver rank of seeds

in the long summer
they survive
nursed to greenness by the light
no matter how it comes
a shimmering heat
to dry their paper leaves

while the wind passes
they susurrate and shiver
give tongue like lovers
though battered
only a violent touch
awakens the sigh of their true voice

seeing them
I link my fingers through their blades
envious of their peace
the stiffness in my spirit
desires to learn
the yielding of the grasses
the becoming of a truer self