Monday, April 16, 2007

Reckless Poem

Today again I am hardly myself.
It happens over and over.
It is heaven-sent.

It flows through me
like the blue wave.
Green leaves – you may believe this or not –
have once or twice
emerged from the tips of my fingers

deep in the woods,
in the reckless seizure of spring.

Though, of course, I also know that other song,
the sweet passion of one-ness.

Just yesterday I watched an ant crossing a path, through the tumbled pine needles she toiled.
And I thought: she will never live another life but this one.
And I thought: if she lives her life with all her strength is she not wonderful and wise?
And I continued this up the miraculous pyramid of everything until I came to myself.

And still, even in these northern woods, on these hills of sand,
I have flown from the other window of myself
to become white heron, blue whale,
red fox, hedgehog.
Oh, sometimes already my body has felt like the body of a flower!
Sometimes already my heart is a red parrot, perched
among strange, dark trees, flapping and screaming.
Mary Oliver


At 11:31 AM, Blogger reasonably prudent poet said...

... because, you know, according to a sign at my local library, it is national poetry month...

At 11:30 AM, Blogger Andygrrl said...

Exactly! And I've got this far into the month with no poems! WTF. I making up for it while I can.


Post a Comment

<< Home