A Timbered Choir Poem by Wendell Berry

A Timbered Choir

Rating: 4.9


Even while I dreamed I prayed that what I saw was only fear and no foretelling,
for I saw the last known landscape destroyed for the sake
of the objective, the soil bludgeoned, the rock blasted.
Those who had wanted to go home would never get there now.

I visited the offices where for the sake of the objective the planners planned
at blank desks set in rows. I visited the loud factories
where the machines were made that would drive ever forward
toward the objective. I saw the forest reduced to stumps and gullies; I saw
the poisoned river, the mountain cast into the valley;
I came to the city that nobody recognized because it looked like every other city.
I saw the passages worn by the unnumbered
footfalls of those whose eyes were fixed upon the objective.

Their passing had obliterated the graves and the monuments
of those who had died in pursuit of the objective
and who had long ago forever been forgotten, according
to the inevitable rule that those who have forgotten forget
that they have forgotten. Men, women, and children now pursued the objective
as if nobody ever had pursued it before.

The races and the sexes now intermingled perfectly in pursuit of the objective.
the once-enslaved, the once-oppressed were now free
to sell themselves to the highest bidder
and to enter the best paying prisons
in pursuit of the objective, which was the destruction of all enemies,
which was the destruction of all obstacles, which was the destruction of all objects,
which was to clear the way to victory, which was to clear the way to promotion, to salvation, to progress,
to the completed sale, to the signature
on the contract, which was to clear the way
to self-realization, to self-creation, from which nobody who ever wanted to go home
would ever get there now, for every remembered place
had been displaced; the signposts had been bent to the ground and covered over.

Every place had been displaced, every love
unloved, every vow unsworn, every word unmeant
to make way for the passage of the crowd
of the individuated, the autonomous, the self-actuated, the homeless
with their many eyes opened toward the objective
which they did not yet perceive in the far distance,
having never known where they were going,
having never known where they came from.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
John Ward 25 February 2018

I especially liked the line, “ I came to the city that nobody recognised ........every other city“

2 0 Reply
Cynthia Buhain-baello 13 May 2015

Profound and very vividly written, this dream and its repercussions are eloquently portrayed and the lines convey strong and gripping emotions. Very striking and a drastic reminder for us all.

3 1 Reply
Linda Long 12 March 2012

Although A Timbered Choir is not realy poetic, its prosey message is a clear call to the travel worn commuter and glutted conscience of the over-consumer. The verses do not sing like a Robert Frost piece, or reverberate with resonance in the same way that Henry Beston beckons you out of doors to enjoy the simple old farmyard. All the same, it is the devout love for the land that is discerned in Wendell Berry's masterful lesson. I will continue to tap this source of sustained dependence on what gives true meaning in life.

5 11 Reply
Marilyn Mckinstry 13 July 2008

this makes me sorry i ever left wisconsin...

9 2 Reply
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Wendell Berry

Wendell Berry

Henry County, Kentucky
Close
Error Success