Wendell Berry has completed the giving away of himself. Memory eternal.
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 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.
– Wendell Berry, August 5, 1934 – August 31, 2026
From A Timbered Choir: The Sabbath Poems 1979-1997
Gladsome Lights 
I discovered his death late last night, and also acknowledged it on my blog. I used a different poem, but I was pleased to read your selection. It’s new to me: not surprising, given his prolific output.
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Thanks, I didn’t know he passed. I need to go back to his writing
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Though Berry lived a long and fruitful life to the age of 92, his death seems too soon. May his words continue to send roots and shoots into the world!
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Yes!
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