When death comes

A predictable but sad post today on hearing of the death of Mary Oliver

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 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.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

Mary Oliver, When Death Comes

4 thoughts on “When death comes

  1. Karl, I just now learnt from you about Mary Oliver’s death. As she is one of my favourite poets
    and also a wonderful woman it is a blow that she is no longer with us here.
    You choose such a wonderful poem by her. Thank you.

    Miriam

  2. I always loved when you quoted Mary Oliver. And I’m sure I will still love when you quote her. What a blessing and quiet inspiration she was/is as you are too!

    1. I agree with your first part – I always found her so, and will continue to quote from her. I am glad if the second part is even a little true; to be honest I find the philosophy and lifestyle on your blog to be a bigger inspiration. Hope it is not too cold where you are, Karl

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