These months of spring and early summer shared their beauty and their pain, their hope for new beginnings and the sadness of lives ended-some with grace and dignity of a life well-lived, and some with the tragedy of a life not-yet-fully lived. For me, I find prayer in poetry, in words of writers who speak the words in my mind that cannot find their way to the page. Thank you, Mary Oliver, for your gifts so eloquently shared. Thank you for your prayer.
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean –
The one who has flung herself out of the grass,
The one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
Who is moving her jaws back and forth
Instead of up and down –
Who is gazing around with her
Enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms
And thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
Into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
How to be idle and blessed,
How to stroll through the fields,
Which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?
~ Mary Oliver
Poetry is prayer. With these words, I remember those who have moved on from this ‘wild and precious life’, saying a prayer for those they left behind. Dear reader, what is prayer to you? Where do you go to find comfort?
This post was inspired by writealm.com’s prompt-a-day for July.
- Take a Walk With Me…The World Is Holy (jenniferwolfe.net)
- Live A Life Of Amazement (jenniferwolfe.net)
- My Best Life, April 2014: Endings and Beginnings (jenniferwolfe.net)