Mary Oliver, Thank You

Mary Oliver, thank you.

The simple elegance of your poems exquisitely mirrors what is miraculous in nature – that out of seemingly simple elements placed in fortunate proximity and serendipitous patterns, massive red stars and dainty starfish have been fashioned. The lightness of your touch on words, placing them with awkward and delicate balance like pick-up-sticks, make ordinary sounds and syllables seem extraordinarily beautiful.

Mary Oliver, thank you.

In your eyes the spirit of trees moved. In your ears the voices of insects and furry creatures alike, were heard and comprehended. Through your fingertips the textures of the forest and marsh and meadow were as sensual as a Vermeer. With humility and precision, you undressed the natural order until the spiritual stood naked in its midst, and all of it you framed with supreme dignity.

Mary Oliver, thank you.

You, along with that more tortured soul and Bay State colleague, Anne Sexton, gave me poetry. Without the two of you I may never have learned to drink a poem, or trace one’s body, or hear the curl of a voice within one’s unfolding lines. I cannot imagine having been the least bit interested in Billy Collins, Li-young Lee, Marie Howe, or Wendell Berry had you and Anne not already seeped into my thin places and run your verses through my sorrows, secrets, and joys. You opened my heart and mind to the language of poetry and finally, unknowingly, you even nudged me to write my own.

Mary Oliver, thank you.

Thank you.

“…And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
And have you changed your life?”

~ Mary Oliver, “The Swan”