I Go Among Trees — Poetry is for everyone #7
A little peace and quiet for those that need it.
Welcome to the latest edition of poetry is for everyone. Each week I intuitively send out a poem that is speaking to me that hopefully in some numinous way speaks to you too. It is my intention to keep the selection diverse and interesting and introduce you to some new writers along the way. Feel free to make suggestions or recommend your favourite poets/poems to the group in the comments.
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This poet/poem is a completely new discovery for me, landing on my Instagram feed somewhere last week and bringing with it an enormous sigh of relief. I’d say thank you to the algorithm except that I have so finely tuned who I follow online that there is rarely a misstep or engagement with something that isn’t intentional or doesn’t inspire me these days. (I highly recommend regular check ins with your social media curation for this reason.)
But this poem in particular was one of right place, right time for me and I’ve gone on a wonderful exploration of Wendell Berry’s work and his relationship to nature since then.
My own relationship to trees runs deep. Sometimes I need reminding of that. For you it might be the same, or water, or stone. Whatever it is, and I am writing this to myself as much as to you: ground and surround yourself in those environments more often than you think you need and for more time than you think is necessary — or than you think you have. It will make time both stand still and expand.
Wishing you a beautiful Saturday <3
I Go Among Trees
by Wendell Berry
I go among trees and sit still.
All my stirring becomes quiet
around me like circles on water.
My tasks lie in their places
where I left them, asleep like cattle.
Then what is afraid of me comes
and lives a while in my sight.
What it fears in me leaves me,
and the fear of me leaves it.
It sings, and I hear its song.
Then what I am afraid of comes.
I live for a while in its sight.
What I fear in it leaves it,
and the fear of it leaves me.
It sings, and I hear its song.
After days of labor,
mute in my consternations,
I hear my song at last,
and I sing it. As we sing,
the day turns, the trees move.
I am now an affiliate of Bookshop.org so if you’d like to read more from any of the featured artists on our growing poetry curation, I have put together a selection on my page <3