Poets tell us what we knew about ourselves but didn’t know we knew or rejected as too true. They also, graciously, allow for renewal.

Pear_tree A Purification

At the start of spring I open a trench
in the ground. I put into it
the winter’s accumulation of paper,
pages I do not want to read
again, useless words, fragments,
errors.  And I put into it
the contents of the outhouse:
light of the sun, growth of the ground,
finished with one of their journeys.
To the sky, to the wind, then,
and to the faithful trees, I confess
my sins: that I have not been happy

enough, considering my good luck;
have listened to too much noise:
have been inattentive to wonders;
have lusted after praise.

And then upon the gathered refuse
of mind and body, I close the trench,
folding shut again the dark,
and deathless earth. Beneath that seal
the old escapes into the new.

-Wendell Berry

[photo of the beautiful Bradford pear in my front yard, my sign of renewal every spring]

About Patti Digh

Patti Digh is an author, speaker, and educator who builds learning communities and gets to the heart of difficult topics. Her work over the last three decades has focused on diversity, inclusion, social justice, and living and working mindfully. She has developed diversity strategies and educational programming for major nonprofit and corporate organizations and has been a featured speaker at many national and international conferences.

2 comments to " Poets tell us what we knew about ourselves but didn’t know we knew or rejected as too true. They also, graciously, allow for renewal. "
  • Valerie

    Dear Patti,
    What a beautiful tree! Your picture made me smile! Here the trees are blooming too and it just makes me feel so happy. I wanted to share with you another spring poem, I hope you like it. It is by one of my favorite poets in the world, Macrina Wiederkehr. Do you know her?

    How quietly the earth breathes forth new life. How eagerly the sun bleeds forth the spring,
    I am listening.
    I am listening to seeds breaking open,
    to roots growing strong beneath the ground,
    to green shoots rising up from winter wombs. I am listening to thorns blossoming,
    to barren branches laughing out new growth,
    to wildflowers dancing through the meadows.

    I am listening.
    I am listening to the forest filling up with song.
    I am listening to the earth filling up with life.
    I am listening to trees filling up with leaves.

    I am listening.
    I am listening to the sky with its many changing moods,
    to flashes of lightning, peals of thunder,
    to opening buds and greening grass.
    I am listening to the breaking forth of light in the vestibule of dawn.
    I am listening to the freshness of the morning.

    I am listening.
    I am listening to the rain drops
    giving hope to thirsty gardens.
    I am listening to the orchards
    pregnant with new life.
    I am listening to the flowers
    bursting forth in rainbow colors.

    I am listening.
    I am listening to the brook,
    to the song of happy waters.
    I am listening to music
    rising up from all of the earth.
    I am listening to spring
    soaring in on wings of life.
    I am listening to the sounds of spring.

    I am listening.
    I am listening to prayers
    pouring fourth from feathered throats.
    I am listening to prayers
    rising up from misty waters.
    I am listening to prayers
    of a meadow crowned with dawn.

    I am listening.
    I am listening to the growing
    in the garden of my heart.
    I am listening to my heart
    singing songs of resurrection.
    I am listening to the colors of life.

    I am listening.
    I am listening to winter
    handing over spring.
    I am listening to the poetry of spring.
    I am listening.

  • amy s

    wow, i just keep finding such wonderful stuff, for lack of better words. everbody says inspiration, which it is… but so much more… thanks patti… amy ramblin rose

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