The Want of Peace by Wendell Berry

All goes back to the earth,


and so I do not desire


pride of excess or power,


but the contentments made


by men who have had little:


the fisherman’s silence


receiving the river’s grace,


the gardner’s musing on rows.



I lack the peace of simple things.


I am never wholly in place.


I find no peace or grace.


We sell the world to buy fire,


our way lighted by burning men,


and that has bent my mind


and made me think of darkness


and wish for the dumb life of roots.