Wednesday, June 29, 2011


The Gift of Gravity

All that passes descends,
and ascends again unseen
into the light: the river
coming down from sky
to hills, from hills to sea,
and carving as it moves,
to rise invisible,
gathered to light, to return
again. "The river's injury
is its shape." I've learned no more.
We are what we are given
and what is taken away;
blessed be the name
of the giver and taker.
For everything that comes
is a gift, the meaning always
carried out of sight
to renew our whereabouts,
always a starting place.
And every gift is perfect
in its beginning, for it
is "from above, and cometh down
from the Father of lights."
Gravity is grace.

~ Wendell Berry ~

I first found Wendall Berry's poetry in a collection edited by Roger Housden entitled Risking Everything. The poem chosen for the anthology was "The Peace of Wild Things." In it he speaks of "resting in the grace of the world," and how often I think of that lying in the night's stillness.

When I travelled to New Hampshire with my sisters this spring, it was a gift of grace. We live across the country from each other; so time together is especially treasured. This May's visit is remembered not by the doing, but by the being.

In each other's presence we found this little river. It was clear and swift, carrying gifts, forging a liquid path, renewing our spirits, bringing laughter and light-hearted play. Time stood still, gravity grounding us on this beautiful earth. Every gift is perfect; every gift is grace.

1 comment:

  1. Great photo...a place I'd love to sit and journal! Excellent choice of words describing
    your visit there with your sisters. Thanks for sharing!