A poem for the troubled and weary

     Today I spent a considerable portion of the day reflecting on the words and wisdom of one of my favorite poets, essayists, and visionaries, Wendell Berry. One poem, in particular, caught my attention with the compelling line "Let the sighs of the prisoner come before thee" and I have copied the entirety of the poem below for your consideration. Let me know in the comments below your thoughts (if any) about the poem. I for one found it to be a comfort to myself as I am often tired and weary of this world's troubles.

“My sore ran in the night

and ceased not. I tossed to and fro

unto the dawning of the day.

Let the sighs of the prisoner

come before thee; according to the greatness of they power

preserve thou those that are

appointed to die. I remembered

my song in the night. I said,

This is my sorrow, but I will,

Remember the works of the Lord;

I will remember his wonders

of old. And I remembered

the small stream coming down

off the hill through all the years

of my people, and long before.

I remembered the trees on slopes

Beside it, standing in the great heat

of summer, and giving shade.

I remembered the leaves falling

and then the snow, and again

the small flowers rising up out of the dead leaves, the mosses

green again by the flowing water,

and the water thrush’s nest

under the root of a strong tree.

I said, I will grieve no more

for death, for what is death to me

who have seen thy returns, O

Lord of love, who in the false are true.”

-Wendell Berry in “A timbered choir”