Wendell Berry
Terrors are to come. The earth
Is poisoned with narrow lives.
I think of you. What you will
Live through, or perish by, eats
At my heart. What have I done? I
Need better answers than there are.
To pain of coming to see
What was done in blindness,
Loving what I cannot save. Nor,
Your eyes turning toward me,
Can I wish your lives unmade
Though the pain of them is on me.
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