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Mary Oliver - In Blackwater Woods

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Here's your Daily Poem from the Poetry Chaikhana --

 

 

 

 

 

In Blackwater Woods

By Mary Oliver(1935 - )

Look, the treesare turningtheir own bodiesinto pillarsof light,are giving off the richfragrance of cinnamonand fulfillment,the long tapersof cattailsare bursting and floating away overthe blue shouldersof the ponds,and every pond,no matter what itsname is, isnameless now.Every yeareverythingI have ever learnedin my lifetimeleads back to this: the firesand the black river of losswhose other sideis salvation,whose meaningnone of us will ever know.To live in this worldyou must be ableto do three things:to love what is mortal;to hold itagainst your bones knowingyour own life depends on it;and, when the time comes to let it go,to let it go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

-- from American Primitive, by Mary Oliver

Amazon.com / Photo by obenson /

 

 

 

 

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Thought for the Day:

Keep faithwith the living present,even if you must renounce the pastand abandon the future.

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Hi Alan -This is one of my favorite poems by Mary Oliver. It speaks to so many levels of the human experience. Look, the treesare turningtheir own bodiesinto pillarsof light...Those opening lines draw me in every time I read them. They remind me that nature, too, is a heavenly realm. But there is also the beginning hint of loss here, something evanescent and fleeting. It as if these trees, in their glow, are fading from the physical world, receding from us. It is a lovely, melancholy sort of transcendence.Lines in this poem also suggest to me, at times, formless awareness:and every pond,no matter what itsname is, isnameless now.Notice the intentional ambiguity of that final line break above. She could be saying that the ponds are now nameless, or that they are nameless Now, nameless Presence.

Contemplating that double meaning can throw the mind into meditation.She uses a similar line break immediately preceding that: "name is, is". The break forces us unconsciously to think of how no matter what a place (or person) is named, it IS. It's existence is undeniable, not somehow dependent on definitions or categories or names. The line break tricks the mind into contemplating the relationship between being and name.But the part of the poem that touches me most is the courageous willingness to embrace both connection and loss:To live in this worldyou must be ableto do three things:to love what is mortal;to hold itagainst your bones knowingyour own life depends on it;and, when the time comes to let it go,to let it go.Have a beautiful weekend!Ivan

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