Friday, 18 January 2019

Eulogy for Mary

It is what I was born for--/to look, to listen,’ to lose myself/inside this soft world 
Mary Oliver

It is a midwinter day
and I read a poem by you
where an end date
follows your name.
Some unspeakable sadness
drops through me.

Just moments ago,
I watched a coyote
stroll by the fishpond
as if she had no reason
for rushing today.

Up the hill,
a patch of rosemary
has burst into a wild layer
of blue blossoms,
dressed in a fine net
of spider silk and mist.

Tonight, a multitude
of souls will listen
to the midnight calls
of a Great Horned Owl,

read the calligraphy
of the stars, and wonder
at the blessings
sown deep inside
the words you have left us.

© Debbie Hall

Pulitzer Prize-Winning Poet Mary Oliver Dies at 83

Debbie is a psychologist and writer whose poetry has appeared in a number of literary journals. She is the author of the poetry collection, "What Light I Have" (2017, Main Street Rag Books).