and to shine

Mary Oliver died in January, so I always knew that I was going to close out the month with her—although she is also the poet I've concluded poetry month with the most frequently (in 2007, 2012, 2015, and this year, making for an impressive 4/13). Choosing the poem was much more difficult, because I've posted a lot of Mary Oliver over the years, and I've already posted most of my favorites. Of those, "Wild Geese" remains one of the most perfect poems in existence, and "In Blackwater Woods" and "When Death Comes" are not only two of my favorite poems in the world, they're also both about loss and grief and death in ways that really matter to me, and obviously mattered to Oliver. She was also very prolific, and wrote so many wonderful poems that it's easy to get lost in reading them, and harder, sometimes, to come up for air. This is not a bad thing. 

Eventually, though, I stopped overthinking it quite so much (would it even be possible to encapsulate all my Mary Oliver feelings in one Mary Oliver poem?) and went with this one. 

When I am among the trees, 

especially the willows and the honey locust,

equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,

they give off such hints of gladness.

I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,

in which I have goodness, and discernment,

and never hurry through the world

    but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, "Stay awhile."

The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It’s simple," they say,

"and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled

with light, and to shine."

—Mary Oliver (1935-2019), "When I Am Among The Trees," from Thirst, 2006. 

Thanks for reading, friends. Happy Poetry Month 2019! See you next year. ♥