The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry 'The Peace of Wild Things'

Far too many people I know have died this year (at this point the tally is unbelievably up to 5 people as of the end of March).
At times I feel as though my heart has been ripped, still-beating, out of my chest. At times I am so filled with rage I could scream.
And at times I feel completely empty, dead inside.

This poem helps, in it's peace-filled beauty and simplicity.