Poem: “A Purification” by Wendell Berry

At start of spring I open a trench 

In the ground I put into it 

The winter’s accumulation of paper, 

Pages I do not want to read 

Again, useless words, fragments, errors. 

And I put into it the contents of the outhouse: 

light of the suns, growth of the ground, 

my sins; 

that I have not been happy enough, 

considering my good luck; 

have listened to too much noise, 

have been inattentive to wonders, 

have lusted after praise. 

And then upon the gathered refuse, of mind and body, 

I close the trench folding shut again the dark, 

the deathless earth. 

Beneath that seal the old escapes into the new.