The new Mary Oliver
book of poetry, Felicity, has just been published. This is one of the
highlights of my week, and even more so because my husband gifted me with a
copy. Oliver’s work is beloved by many, and I think our UUCA congregation has a
soft spot for her poetry.
On October 31st
HuffPost Religion featured the new book with an article, “Seven Deeply
Spiritual Moments in Mary Oliver’s New Book of Poems”. I invite you to read the
article and see how Oliver’s spirituality is expressed in these quotes.
My favorite is “Why
do people keep asking to see God’s identity papers when the darkness opening
into morning is more than enough?” It’s a question that seems rather indignant,
and to me it echoes the Transcendentalist strain of our faith tradition, which
sees Emerson insisting that “Nature
always wears the colors of the spirit”.
If you have never
read any of Oliver’s poems I urge you this week to look at some of the classics
as well as the newest.
I conclude with
this poem, called “When Death Comes”, which I recited this past Sunday during
our Dia de los Muertos service:
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn
like the hungry bear in autumn
when
death comes
and takes all the bright coins from his purse
and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to
buy me, and snaps his purse shut;
when
death comes
like the measle-pox;
like the measle-pox;
when
death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
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,
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,
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.
precious to the earth.
When
it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I
was a bride married to amazement.
I
was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When
it’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.
or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.
http://www.phys.unm.edu/~tw/fas/yits/archive/oliver_whendeathcomes.html
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