Tag: Mary Oliver

“Starlings in Winter” by Mary Oliver

On By Christina's WordsIn Poetry1 Comment

Chunky and noisy,
but with stars in their black feathers,
they spring from the telephone wire
and instantly

they are acrobats
in the freezing wind.
And now, in the theater of air,
they swing over buildings,

dipping and rising;
they float like one stippled star
that opens,
becomes for a moment fragmented,

then closes again;
and you watch
and you try
but you simply can’t imagine

how they do it
with no articulated instruction, no pause,
only the silent confirmation
that they are this notable thing,

this wheel of many parts, that can rise and spin
over and over again,
full of gorgeous life.

Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,
even in the leafless winter,
even in the ashy city.
I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;

I feel my boots
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard. I want

to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbable beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.

“Starlings in Winter” by Mary Oliver, Owls and Other Fantasies: Poems and Essays

“Letter to ____” by Mary Oliver

On By Christina's WordsIn Poetry4 Comments
You have broken my heart.
Just as well. Now
I am learning to rise
above all that, learning
 
the thin life, waking up
simply to praise
everything in this world that is
strong and beautiful
 
always—the trees, the rocks,
the fields, the news
from heaven, the laughter
that comes back
 
all the same. Just as well. Time
to read books, rake the lawn
in peace, sweep the floor, scour
the faces of pans,
 
anything. And I have been so
diligent it is almost
over, I am growing myself
as strong as rock, as a tree
 
which, if I put my arms around it, it does not
lean away. It is a
wonderful life. Comfortable.
I read the papers. Maybe
 
I will go on a cruise, maybe I will
cross the entire ocean, more than once.
Whatever you think, I have scarcely
thought of you. Whatever you imagine.
 
it never really happened. Only a few
evenings of nonsense. Whatever you believe–
dear one, dear one–
do not believe this letter.
~ Mary Oliver, from Thirst

“Thirst” by Mary Oliver

On By Christina's WordsIn Poetry

Another morning and I wake with thirst
for the goodness I do not have. I walk
out to the pond and all the way God has
given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord,
I was never a quick scholar but sulked
and hunched over my books past the hour
and the bell; grant me, in your mercy,
a little more time. Love for the earth
and love for you are having such a long
conversation in my heart. Who knows what
will finally happen or where I will be sent,
yet already I have given a great many things
away, expecting to be told to pack nothing,
except the prayers which, with this thirst,
I am slowy learning.

— Mary Oliver, Thirst

“The Sun” by Mary Oliver

On By Christina's WordsIn Poetry

Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful

than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon

and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone–
and how it slides again

out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower

streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance–
and have you ever felt for anything
such wild love–
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure

that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you

as you stand there,
empty-handed–
or have you too
turned from this world–

or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?

~ Mary Oliver, (New and Selected Poems)

“A Settlement” by Mary Oliver

On By Christina's WordsIn Poetry2 Comments

Look, it’s spring. And last year’s loose dust has turned into this soft willingness. The wind-flowers have come up trembling, slowly the brackens are up-lifting their curvaceous and pale bodies. The thrushes have come home, none less than filled with mystery, sorrow, happiness, music, ambition.

And I am walking out into all of this with nowhere to go and no task undertaken but to turn the pages of this beautiful world over and over, in the world of my mind.

* * *
Therefore, dark past,
I’m about to do it.
I’m about to forgive you

for everything.

“A Settlement” by Mary Oliver from What Do We Know, Poems and Prose Poems