“Like the Water,” by Wendell Berry

Image by Marc Adamus.

Image by Marc Adamus.

Like the water
of a deep stream,
love is always too much.
We did not make it.
Though we drink till we burst,
we cannot have it all,
or want it all.
In its abundance
it survives our thirst.

In the evening we come down to the shore
to drink our fill,
and sleep,
while it flows
through the regions of the dark.
It does not hold us,
except we keep returning to its rich waters

We enter,
willing to die,
into the commonwealth of its joy.


One Comment

  1. Wendell Berry, himself a poetic spring. His water imagery always gets me. Water seems for him an inexhaustible image, of love here, of memory more often, or of ignorance, as in this poem:


    Did I believe I had a clear mind?
    It was like the water of a river
    flowing shallow over the ice. And now
    that the rising water has broken
    the ice, I see that what I thought
    was the light is part of the dark.

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