Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars
of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,
the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders
of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
[I am going to see her in May thanks to my dear friend, Dee. I am not going to wear mascara because of the probability of tears. There are a number of poems by Mary Oliver that I love. This is a new discovery.]
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2 comments:
I'm saddened. For one, you know my love for Mary Oliver. This is a NEW introduction to you, this poem? Also, because this was the first poem I ever performed. It was the first poem that ever moved me in a way to want to show the entire world.
Did I ever tell you about the time I called her home phone?
Devastating. But, I can say I did it. I spoke to THE Mary Oliver in my lifetime.
Totes jealous that you are going to one up me!
Can you get an autograph???
Oh sister. I love your face. It makes me sad sometimes that there are things I don't know about you. I remember you telling me that you called her....She broke your heart. Can you come to Seattle at the end of May?
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