Also, Mary Oliver

[rainbowk]

The Swan

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air -
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music - like the rain pelting the trees - like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds -
A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
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. From The Paris Review # 124, Fall, 1992

Oh my. I couldn't care less about your damned swan Mary Oliver, not at first. You, and your wacky flowery poem swan could go suck eggs for all I care. But then, your questions, ah, well, now you've got me thinking again, once again I can hear you entirely, you and your use of words and so you have me reading through the first part again to see if there is more to love.

Comments

[silverseastar.livejournal.com]

Honestly this poem couldn't have come at a better time. I've been pondering these questions myself. Of course the irony is she answers them.