Here’s a palmful of gently-curated poetry for you: one from Wendell Berry, one from me, and one from the Psalms of ascent.

From Berry:

No, no, there is no going back. 
Less and less you are 
that possibility you were. 
More and more you have become 
those lives and deaths 
that have belonged to you. 
You have become a sort of grave 
containing much that was 
and is no more in time, beloved 
then, now, and always. 
And so you have become a sort of tree 
standing over a grave. 
Now more than ever you can be 
generous toward each day 
that comes, young, to disappear 
forever, and yet remain 
unaging in the mind. 
Every day you have less reason 
not to give yourself away.
 

Visions

Other people used to see them too:
The orphan, the widow, the harlot,
All the empty hands, dicing for silver and begging for bread,
And most, those fist-sized lumps 
Glowing green and needy behind the breastbone 
Of every man, woman, and child.
For these you rose early again and again,
Bearing medicine and gospel so worn and reliable 
you patched its bindings faithfully with duct tape.

But now— 
Still called to healing,
The balm you carry true as ever— 
You alone see them,
So you must explain to us
Gently, as is your way.

Why are the van doors left open in the driveway?
So all the children in there won’t get too hot. It’s so hot today.
But there are no children, Grandpa.

Who are all those people coming across the back field? 
We need to go and ask what they want.
There’s no one there, Dad.

The little boy who slept at the foot of our bed last night—
He was cold. I’m looking for a blanket.
Bill, there was no boy. 

So now you doze: 
Forgiving our steady blind denials,
Pulse beating visible in your thin neck,
Gnarled shoulders crooked against couch cushions,
Mouth open, merely a bit expectant,
An old man dreaming dreams
Of the least of these.

And from Psalm 126:

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion,
    we were like those who dreamed.
Our mouths were filled with laughter,
    our tongues with songs of joy.
Then it was said among the nations,
    “The Lord has done great things for them.”
The Lord has done great things for us,
    and we are filled with joy.

Restore our fortunes, Lord,
    like streams in the Negev.
Those who sow with tears
    will reap with songs of joy.
Those who go out weeping,
    carrying seed to sow,
will return with songs of joy,
    carrying sheaves with them.