deep, deep, deep...
Maybe this is all ...
Smoky Mountains, Eastern Tennessee
May 2006
*
Wendell Berry
Woods
I part the out thrusting branches
and come in beneath
the blessed and the blessing trees.
Though I am silent
there is singing around me.
Though I am dark
there is vision around me.
Though I am heavy
there is flight around me.
*
Sometimes images and words are perfect in a connection – in a rising up into something that was already there, waiting.
5 comments:
Wendell Berry - I want to be like Wendell Berry: poet and farmer. Love this.
This poem reminds me, somehow, of that song, "Cannonball," by Damien Rice.
It's a lovely piece, Sam.
Thanks for the read sushil yadav.
And Melissa, that makes two of us. Berry is a hero for me.
Amy, thanks for the read. I can hear the Rice connection in the refrain -
Stones taught me to fly
Love taught me to lie
Life taught me to die
So it's not hard to fall
When you float like a cannonball
Good point.
You previously posted Berry's "The Peace of Wild Things" as a poem in your ever-growing anthology, yes?
That was the first Berry poem I'd ever read and I remember thinking it was as much a prayer as a poem.
This poem, "Woods," also strikes me as being as much a prayer as a poem. Berry is the only poet I've encountered, other than Frost, who manages to express the reverence I personally feel when I'm out there in the wild, lost (and found) deep in the deep woods.
The blessed and blessing trees indeed.
Thank you for these prayers of Berry's that you've shared here, these fine poems.
"The Peace of Wild Things" is in my anthology, Laurel. You make a good point about Berry's approach to writing. He also puts me in mind of Oliver and Stafford.
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