The Self Expands by What the Field Deepens

*after Andrew Wyeth

The world doesn’t bloom
from the eye; rather, it is the world
that makes sight, layering vision
upon vision. There is no self
without the Other: the grass
and the distance of darker things.

We are moved, continuously,
by how the land moves.
Even the smallest flower
drying below the arm of the sun
drives the self to the self.
We are bent toward becoming.

Witness: she lies on the grass,
and the field sinks into her.
She sees the thing, and it sees her.
It moves into her blood,
creating the shift. She becomes
what is seen. And I see her.

2 thoughts on “The Self Expands by What the Field Deepens

  1. Hi Andrew
    This is an unusual poem which I respond to a lot. It seems to agree with the mystic’s view of life. I describe such an experience of oneness in my latest blog!

    • It’s kind of a weird poem. I’m sort of indifferent towards its sentiment, but sometimes when you’re writing it’s best to go where the poem wants you to go. Thanks for reading and commenting.

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