I got a call this morning from my daughter.

I am in Australia.  She is home in Minnesota.

She wanted me to know there was no emergency but there was this:

Poet Mary Oliver died.

Knowing my heart as she does, she wanted me to know.

The melody of my soul is woven with Mary Oliver’s poetry and prose.

I was able to be in her physical presence once.  She did a poetry reading in Minneapolis.  The church where the event was held was full of those who, like me, came to pay homage.

I wept through most of it.

Some things are just too holy to behold.

I am far from my community and far from my books.  I am far from the round table at our cabin that always held one of her books.  I am left with Facebook as facilitator of communal testimony and grief and it is enough, I suppose.

The power of a soul compelled to sing is miracle.

“Instructions for living a life:
Pay attention.
Be astonished.
Tell about it.”
~Mary Oliver

 

 

 

 

 

5 thoughts on “

  1. I loved all her poetry, and as a dog lover, her poems about Percy always made me emotional for sure. Although she was so profound, she also was so accessible to so many kinds of people. We in the lesbian community were proud to claim her as one of us always. Thinking of you Elizabeth. As I age, it is true what they say, it is filled with one loss after another. It takes a strong soul to manage them all.

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