• Kari Wilde

On being in the forest


The Peace of Wild Things

Wendell Berry


When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds. I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief. I come into the presence of still water. And I feel above me the day-blind stars waiting with their light. For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.



I love this poem. I once saw it tacked on the wall of a bathroom and fell in love immediately. It's one of just a few poems that make my soul bubble over. Sometimes I sit back in the ferns and watch my kids scamper up trees and roll in the dirt without a care in the world. I am happy that this is their childhood. I hope they never forget the feeling of being kissed by the forest.









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