Friday, July 11, 2014

Saturday Poetry July 2

When Death Comes
By Mary Oliver

When death comes
like a hungry bear in
   autumn;
When death comes and
   takes all the bright coins
   from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the
   purse shut;

when death comes
like the measles-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the
   shoulder blades,

I want to step through the
   door full of curiosity,
   wondering:
what is it going to be like,
   that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon
   everything
as a brotherhood and a
   sisterhood
and I look upon time as no
   more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as
   another possibility,

and I think of each life as a 
  flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as
   singular,
and each name a
   comfortable music in the
   mouth,

tending, as all music does,
   toward silence,

and each body a lion of
   courage, and something
   precious to the earth.  

When it's over, I want to
   say: all my life
I was a bride married to
   amazement,
I was the bridegroom,
   taking the world into my
   arms. 

When its's over, I don't want to
   wonder 
if I have made of my life
   something particular, and
   real. 
I don't want to find myself
   sighing and frightened,
   or full of argument. 

I don't want to end up
   simply visiting this
   world. 

















2 comments:

HOOTIN ANNI said...

...this is very good.
And I just read about the rant in your post below...anything that kills other wildlife or harms humans...well, it's all kinds of wrong.

Florence said...

Anni, most of the time I just focus on my little 4 acres and keeping it green and healthy for everything that lives here. But there are times...