Remembering that It Happened Once

From Wendell Berry...

  • Remembering that it happened once,
  • We cannot turn away the thought
  • As we go out, cold, to our barns
  • Toward the long night’s end, that we
  • Ourselves are living in the world
  • It happened in when it first happened,
  • That we ourselves, opening a stall
  • (A latch thrown open countless times
  • Before), might find them breathing there,
  • Foreknown: the Child bedded in straw,
  • The mother kneeling over Him,
  • The husband standing in belief
  • He scarcely can believe, in light
  • That lights them from no source we see,
  • An April morning’s light, the air
  • Around them joyful as a choir.
  • We stand with one hand on the door,
  • Looking into another world
  • That is this world, the pale daylight
  • Coming just as before, our chores
  • To do, the cattle all awake,
  • Our own frozen breath hanging
  • In front of us; and we are here
  • As we have never been before,
  • Sighted as not before, our place
  • Holy, although we knew it not.