The Fist by Mary Oliver

The Fist

There are days
when the sun goes down
like a fist,
though of course

if you see anything
in the heavens this way
you had better get

your eyes checked
or, better still,
your diminished spirit.
The heavens

have no fist,
or wouldn't they have been
shaking it
for a thousand years now,

and even
longer than that,
at the dull, brutish
ways of mankind -

heaven's own
creation?
Instead: such patience!
Such willingness

to let us continue!
To hear,
little by little,
the voices -

only, so far, in
pockets of the world -
suggesting the possibilities

of peace?

Keep looking.
Behold, how the fist opens
with invitation.

~ Mary Oliver ~

(Thirst)

Praying at Gethsemane

Gethsemane
by Mary Oliver

The grass never sleeps.
Or the roses.
Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning.

Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept.

The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet,
and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body,
and heaven knows if it ever sleeps.

Jesus said, wait with me. And maybe the stars did, maybe
the wind wound itself into a silver tree, and didn’t move,
maybe,
the lake far away, where once he walked as on a
blue pavement,
lay still and waited, wild awake.

Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut, that could not
keep that vigil, how they must have wept,
so utterly human, knowing this too
must be a part of the story.
 

 

Title:	Praying at Gethsemane
Notes:	Dr. He Qi is a professor at the Nanjing Union Theological Seminary and a tutor for master candidate students in the Philosophy Department of Nanjing University. He is also a member of the China Art Association and a council member of the Asian Christian Art Association.
Date:	2001
Artist:	He Qi
Material:	Other
Country:	China

Mindful

Every day I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight,

That leaves me like a needle in the haystack of light.

It was what I was born for--to look, to listen,

To lose myself inside this soft world--

To instruct my self over and over in joy, and acclamation.

Nor am I talking about the exceptional,

The fearful, the dreadful, the very extravagant--

But of the ordinary, the common, the very drab, the daily presentations.

Oh, good scholar, I say to myself,

How can you help but grow wise with such teachings as these--

The untrimmable light of the world, the ocean's shine,

The prayers that are made out of grass.

~~Mary Oliver

Help Me Learn

What I Have Learned So Far

Meditation is old and honorable, so why should I
not sit, every morning of my life, on the hillside,
looking into the shining world? Because, properly
attended to, delight, as well as havoc, is suggestion.
Can one be passionate about the just, the
ideal, the sublime, and the holy, and yet commit
to no labor in its cause? I don't think so.

All summations have a beginning, all effect has a
story, all kindness begins with the sown seed.
Thought buds toward radiance. The gospel of
light is the crossroads of -- indolence, or action.

Be ignited, or be gone.

~ Mary Oliver ~

(New and Selected Poems Volume Two)

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