Monday, October 24, 2011

1995 Sabbath Poem I from A Timbered Choir by Wendell Berry

A man with some authentic worries
And many vain and silly ones
I am well-schooled in sleeplessness;
I know it from the inside out.
I breathe, and I know what's at stake.

But still sometimes I'm sane and sound,
however heart or head may ache;
I go to sleep when I lie down,
With no determined care to breathe
I breathe and live and sleep and take.

A sabbath from my weariness,
I rest in unwaking trust
Like clouds and ponds and stones and trees.
The long arising Day will break
If I should die before I wake.


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