Fields of Order
Once,
the earth was loud with weeds
Shadows stole food,
wild roots tangling
with chosen stalks.
Critters whispered at night,
biting into roots,
breaking stems;
rust, mildew,
and insects
scribbled their hunger on
leaves, tender and young
The crops
pure of seed,
promised all acreage
stood in fear
Year after year,
the harvest fell
like a sentence
But now
no weeds, no pests,
no wingbeats,
no tusks breaking dawn.
Pesticides patrol the soil,
electric fences hum prayers
The fields flawless
gleam in an exact shade
a perfect choir of stalks
in rows upon rows
cloned in silence
each one singing
the same song
of order and obedience
Ears swell with grain,
order blooms
and beauty
once again measured
by its perfect sameness
Commentary
Fields of Order explores the tension between nature’s wild diversity and humanity’s relentless pursuit of control. Through the metaphor of farming, the poem reflects on the price of perfection how uniformity, though safe and structured, erodes the beauty born of chaos and difference. It speaks equally to environmental concerns and the societal cost of conformity, making readers question: Is order always beautiful, or does sameness kill the soul of life?
Shashi, this one really resonates with me. The line “each one singing / the same song / of order and obedience” strikes me as both elegant and haunting—it seems to capture the eerie quiet of what we often call ‘progress.’
Much love,
David
Thanks a lot David. Much appreciated
🙏
would you mind if I share it as a reblog at some point in the future?
Absolutely. It will be an honour