Poetry Sunday: In Blackwater Woods by Mary Oliver
Mary Oliver is a contemporary American poet who often uses metaphors from the natural world in her poems. I've featured several of her poems here before but never this one. In this summer of wildfires, it seems particularly apropos as she describes a forest being devastated by fire and then in her last couple of stanzas relates that to the human experience.
In Blackwater Woods
by Mary Oliver
In Blackwater Woods
by Mary Oliver
Look, the trees |
are turning |
their own bodies |
into pillars |
of light, |
are giving off the rich |
fragrance of cinnamon |
and fulfillment, |
the long tapers |
of cattails |
are bursting and floating away over |
the blue shoulders |
of the ponds, |
and every pond, |
no matter what its |
name is, is |
nameless now. |
Every year |
everything |
I have ever learned |
in my lifetime |
leads back to this: the fires |
and the black river of loss |
whose other side |
is salvation, |
whose meaning |
none of us will ever know. |
To live in this world |
you must be able |
to do three things: |
to love what is mortal; |
to hold it |
against your bones knowing |
your own life depends on it; |
and, when the time comes to let it |
go, |
to let it go. |
Great! I love Mary Oliver.
ReplyDeleteMe, too!
DeleteHow beautiful!
ReplyDeleteI agree.
Delete