Sabbath poem II, 1995
Wendell Berry
Sabbath poem II, 1995
The best reward in going to the woods
Is being lost to other people, and
Lost sometimes to myself. I’m at the end
Of no bespeaking wire to spoil my goods;
I send no letter back I do not bring.
Whoever wants me now must hunt me down
Like something wild, and wild is anything
Beyond the reach of purpose not its own.
Wild is anything that’s not at home
In something else’s place. This good white oak
Is not an orchard tree, is unbespoke,
And it can live here by its will alone,
Lost to all other wills but Heaven’s–wild.
So where I most am found I’m lost to you,
Presuming friend, and only can be called
Or answered by a certain one, or two.
From A Timbered Choir: The Sabbath Poems, 1979-97 (Counterpoint Press), [c] Wendell Berry. Used by permission of the publisher.
FOR DECADES, Wendell Berry has honored the wisdom of the Sabbath rest by stepping back from life’s usual routine on Sunday mornings. He has expressed his discoveries in “The Sabbath Poems,” which explore solitude, time and nature. In this time out of time, fears arise and subside; and a sense of mortality presses in, rendering each day more important.
Solitude brings healing and a sense of the connectedness of all the world to heaven: “The world is made at rest,/In ease of gravity.” The wild world, beyond the grasp of human greed and domination, retains a freshness and a transparency that renew the spirit and invite poet and reader into a blessed space and time. The poet offers hope that when the chatter of our usual concerns falls silent, we can listen with fresh ears to the voices of nature around us. In being lost to ourselves and our routines, we find ourselves anew.
–Leo D. Lefebure is associate professor of systematic theology at Fordham University, New York City.
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