The Journal

thinking, writing, learning

Rest

December 16, 2012

I am struggling to write these days. Snippets of lines as I walk to the studio, a fleeting thought while I make dinner. But nothing develops, no words fill the page (or screen).

Today is a good day to sit by the fire and read.

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

 


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I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end.
–Gilda Radner

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