Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange
sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again
and fasten themselves to the high branches–
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands
of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails
for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it
the thorn
that is heavier than lead–
if it’s all you can do
to keep on trudging–
there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted–
each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,
whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.
“Morning Poem” by Mary Oliver, Dream Work.
If it all you can do to keep on trudging… Beautiful words. Unfortunately, trudging has been much of the past three years. The sun is out, birds are chirping, and my window is open.
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Love it . . . thanks
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I sent you a message. I thought I would let you know here, in case you do not check the relevant email account for a while.
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“dared to be happy” – that dart hit home
dw
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I’ve been a MO fan for years but some how missed this beautiful poem. Thanks for sharing and have a wonderful morning!
Siobhan
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