poetry wednesday : i come into the peace of wild things

August 18, 2010 in Uncategorized

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

I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.

I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I don't think ahead to loss and let it color the fullness.

I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I am content in there here, the now.

Be. here. now. Rest in the grace of the world and be free.

(My thanks to Patricia Ryan Madson for reminding me of this poem)

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.

1 comment to " poetry wednesday : i come into the peace of wild things "


Kathryn Ruth

August 19, 2010 AT 9:12AM

“I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. ”

This made me laugh in recognition, as I remembered that not two weeks ago, I was walking through the woods to burn off steam, after learning that my neighbor had passed away. And there was nothing I could do for it. And I’d done less than I’d intended. Of course. And then I worried about all the things I couldn’t do for my friends who don’t live close to me. And then I thought, “I bet not even the monkeys spend time worrying about ‘being there’ for friends that are out of town. They worry about ‘being here'”

truly, this is wonderful. I’ve been reading some short stories by W. Berry recently (equally wonderful). Thanks for reminding me of this poem.