Poetry

The target of poetry is the soul. The goal is to attract the soul like a flower attracts a butterfly. But sometimes it is a thistle on which the butterfly lands. Who can predict the pattern of a butterfly’s flit? Poetry changes our flit plans, not always predictably.





Sunday, February 01, 2009

Wendell Berry

Wendell Berry

Oh how my whole being loves your Sabbath, Wendell
An act of worship to walk those forest trails
How close you seem to the God of creation
Immersed in what He made
But I have a question
Does God require the absence of humanity
Before He will be seen?
In my forest grow concrete and steel trees,
Straight as arrows, full of people.
Is there any possibility of seeing God in Chicago?
And, Oh, just one last question
Could I come to your church
Or would that ruin the neighborhood?

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