I figured I’d end my National Poetry Month extravaganza (although I might keep going with it, I’ve had a lot of fun, and a lot of cool new readers have found their way to me because of the poetry posts) with one of my favorite poems of all time.<\/p>\n
In Blackwater Woods<\/b>
\nby Mary Oliver<\/i><\/p>\n
Look, the trees
\nare turning
\ntheir own bodies
\ninto pillars<\/p>\n
of light,
\nare giving off the rich
\nfragrance of cinnamon
\nand fulfillment,<\/p>\n
the long tapers
\nof cattails
\nare bursting and floating away over
\nthe blue shoulders<\/p>\n
of the ponds,
\nand every pond,
\nno matter what its
\nname is, is<\/p>\n
nameless now.
\nEvery year
\neverything
\nI have ever learned<\/p>\n
in my lifetime
\nleads back to this: the fires
\nand the black river of loss
\nwhose other side<\/p>\n
is salvation,
\nwhose meaning
\nnone of us will ever know.
\nTo live in this world<\/p>\n
you must be able
\nto do three things:
\nto love what is mortal;
\nto hold it<\/p>\n
against your bones knowing
\nyour own life depends on it;
\nand, when the time comes to let it go,
\nto let it go.<\/p>\n
\n
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I figured I’d end my National Poetry Month extravaganza (although I might keep going with it, I’ve had a lot of fun, and a lot of cool new readers have found their way to me because of the poetry posts) … Continue reading