Are You Breathing Just a Little and Calling it a Life?

12 Dec

It’s a cold, snowy evening where I live. Perfect for poetry. (Even if it’s not cold and snowy where you are, I declare it a perfect night for poetry nonetheless!)

This poem is longer than previous ones I’ve posted, but it’s worth sitting with for a while. Read it and re-read it. Soak it in. Though poetry should speak to us universally, I cannot help but feel that some poems speak to me as a woman. This is undoubtedly one of those poems. And Mary Oliver is undoubtedly one of those poets.

As a woman in her late twenties, this line screams to me from my computer screen: And who will care, who will chide you if you wander away/from wherever you are, to look for your soul?

I wouldn’t be going out on a limb to suggest that the person who would likely chide you for wandering away is yourself. How many of us stay seated at that metaphorical (or perhaps real) desk because of fear? What does fear keep you from doing? For how long will you continue to listen to those dark shouters,/caution and prudence?/Fall in! Fall in!

If you enjoy this piece, check out The Journey–it’s another beauty.

Have You Ever Tried to Enter the Long Black Branches?

Have you ever tried to enter the long black branches of other lives —
tried to imagine what the crisp fringes, full of honey, hanging
from the branches of the young locust trees, in early morning, feel like?

Do you think this world was only an entertainment for you?

Never to enter the sea and notice how the water divides
with perfect courtesy, to let you in!
Never to lie down on the grass, as though you were the grass!
Never to leap to the air as you open your wings over the dark acorn of your heart!

No wonder we hear, in your mournful voice, the complaint
that something is missing from your life!

Who can open the door who does not reach for the latch?
Who can travel the miles who does not put one foot
in front of the other, all attentive to what presents itself continually?
Who will behold the inner chamber who has not observed
with admiration, even with rapture, the outer stone?

Well, there is time left —
fields everywhere invite you into them.

And who will care, who will chide you if you wander away
from wherever you are, to look for your soul?

Quickly, then, get up, put on your coat, leave your desk!

To put one’s foot into the door of the grass, which is
the mystery, which is death as well as life, and
not be afraid!

To set one’s foot in the door of death, and be overcome
with amazement!

To sit down in front of the weeds, and imagine
god the ten-fingered, sailing out of his house of straw,
nodding this way and that way, to the flowers of the
present hour,
to the song falling out of the mockingbird’s pink mouth,
to the tippets of the honeysuckle, that have opened

in the night.

To sit down, like a weed among weeds, and rustle in the wind!

Listen, are you breathing just a little, and calling it a life?

While the soul, after all, is only a window,

and the opening of the window no more difficult
than the wakening from a little sleep.

Only last week I went out among the thorns and said
to the wild roses:
deny me not,
     but suffer my devotion.
Then, all afternoon, I sat among them. Maybe

I even heard a curl or tow of music, damp and rouge red,
hurrying from their stubby buds, from their delicate watery bodies.

For how long will you continue to listen to those dark shouters,
caution and prudence?
Fall in! Fall in!

A woman standing in the weeds.
A small boat flounders in the deep waves, and what’s coming next
is coming with its own heave and grace.

Meanwhile, once in a while, I have chanced, among the quick things,
upon the immutable.
What more could one ask?

And I would touch the faces of the daises,
and I would bow down
to think about it.

That was then, which hasn’t ended yet.

Now the sun begins to swing down. Under the peach-light,
I cross the fields and the dunes, I follow the ocean’s edge.

I climb, I backtrack.
I float.
I ramble my way home.

-Mary Oliver

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2 Responses to “Are You Breathing Just a Little and Calling it a Life?”

  1. Seasweetie December 12, 2010 at 9:29 pm #

    I love this one – and I love The Journey as well. You’re right, it’s a perfect night for poetry. Thanks.

    • Cheekie December 12, 2010 at 9:46 pm #

      Glad you enjoyed them! Thanks for reading 🙂

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