I’ve posted a couple of Mary Oliver’s poems before. I was sorry to hear of her death yesterday.
Mary Oliver
This next poem, Mindful, delights me in that it sums up what I try to do every day.
Everyday
I see or hear
something
that more or less
kills me
with delight,
that leaves me
like a needle
in the haystack
of light.
It was what I was born for —
to look, to listen,
to lose myself
inside this soft world —
to instruct myself
over and over
in joy,
and acclamation.
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant —
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help
but grow wise
with such teachings
as these —
the untrimmable light
of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?
“Mindful” by Mary Oliver from Why I Wake Early. © Beacon Press, 2005
This is a very good question for us each to ask ourselves.
Your one and precious life
You might like to look up this website to read more of her poems.
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