Sunday, June 6, 2010

In Blackwater Woods


.
.
Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars
.
of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,
.
the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders
.
of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is
.
nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned
.
in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side
.
is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world
.
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
.
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
.
~ Mary Oliver
(American Primitive)
.

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