I never make promises lightly . . .
I swear to you in the days still left .
. .
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Fields of Gold. Eva Cassidy. A perfect bridge between old and new.
"Fields
Of Gold"
You'll
remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold
So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in the fields of gold
We'll walk in the fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
Upon the fields of barley
You'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we walk in the fields of gold
So she took her love
For to gaze awhile
Upon the fields of barley
In his arms she fell as her hair came down
Among the fields of gold
Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We'll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in the fields of gold
See the west wind move like a lover so
Upon the fields of barley
Feel her body rise when you kiss her mouth
Among the fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I've broken
But I swear in the days still left
We'll walk in the fields of gold
We'll walk in the fields of gold
Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley
See the children run as the sun goes down
Among the fields of gold
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
When we walked in the fields of gold
This song represents for me a
time of reconciliation, California, a promise of an exquisitely sweet
future, romance, a promise I made to my then-husband when he returned
from five months away. I'm not going into specifics here, but we
re-committed to our marriage – more importantly, to each other.
If you've followed my blog and
writings, you know how deeply I connect to the wind and nature. So in
1996, Sting's “Fields of Gold” became an anthem, one of those
songs that defines and represents a notch of time in our lives – a
magic carpet of sorts that carries us away and sweeps us up in a
swirl of emotions and memories, the impact far greater than lyrics
and music alone.
Sting's version is wistful, warm, his honeyed, golden words reflect the sun and the fields. I felt safe and sheltered, yet simultaneously revealed and exposed to the sun when I listened to Sting sing “Fields of Gold.” His version represents the heat of youth, the rhythmic flames of sexual passion, the persistent driving beat, desire that is never quenched.
Moving ahead to 2012, I am
getting to know someone new, and among the many pleasures we share is a
love of music. He introduced me to Eva Cassidy's work. Her voice
slips in and out and swims between the very cells of my DNA, caresses
them, whispers to them, makes them bleed and then heals them. The
wabi sabi effect is amazing. She breaks and then repairs my soul.
And today I discovered her version of
“Fields of Gold.”
I put off listening, recognizing this would forever change its meaning for me. Funny how the simplest acts are often the most difficult to initiate.
I put off listening, recognizing this would forever change its meaning for me. Funny how the simplest acts are often the most difficult to initiate.
When I was ready, I took a deep
breath and pushed the “play” icon.
Cassidy's rendition is powerful, rich,
soulful, crystal clear as a frozen waterfall, pregnant with promise.
Hers is platinum, silvered, a mirror held up to the future while
still reflecting the past, bouncing between the two into infinity.
The broken vows rebound like pinballs, clanging chrome bells,
fracturing the mirrors. Jagged shards of shattered promises tinkle
like wind chimes in a breeze; the past's frozen crust falls away.
The flood rushes forward and carries in its wake the tender bud of a potential silver spring.~~GH
The flood rushes forward and carries in its wake the tender bud of a potential silver spring.~~GH
I never make promises lightly . . .
I swear to you in the days still left .
. .
You'll remember me when the west wind moves
