Silent Poetry for St. Brigid

We have a shelf of poetry books in the Page library. They are not my husband’s.

Wendell Berry has been a companion of my heart for a long, long time. Here’s one of my favorites. I believe I have built for myself an internal farm, composed of love and knitting.


However just and anxious I have been,

I will stop and step back

from the crowd of those who may agree

with what I say, and be apart.

There is no earthly promise of life or peace

but where the roots branch and weave

their patient silent passages in the dark;

uprooted, I have been furious without an aim.

I am not bound for any public place,

but for ground of my own

where I have planted vines and orchard trees,

and in the heat of the day climbed up

into the healing shadow of the woods.

Better than any argument is to rise at dawn

And pick dew-wet red berries in a cup.


Wendell Berry


One response to “Silent Poetry for St. Brigid

  1. Oh, beautiful. thanks for that.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s