Friday, March 18, 2011
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
— Wendell Berry
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
I Am Not Yours
I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.
You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.
Oh plunge me deep in love, put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
One day I was in the backyard with the kids, snapping pictures of them in the fading autumn afternoon, my heart so full with their beauty, yet haunted by a love which has yet to be. I felt ashamed--almost--for sensing this coming love, and wanting it. Afterall, I have so much love already. And yet.
I decided to turn the camera on myself. I laid very still in the cool grass, feeling the pull of a fate I know in my bones is coming like a tide, pulling me into its center. Then I looked deep into the lens at that fate, that love. And I snapped the shutter.