Tuesday, December 29, 2015

How Mary Oliver teaches and inspires

Do These Poems Speak to You?

You gave me a book of poems ~
Felicity, what does it mean?
   apt and pleasing
   expression in writing
but why the caution
   when headlong might save a life?
“They are her love poems you know.”
No, I didn’t know.
From Mary through you to me?

You speak of longing
then point out the poem on page 15,
   the one that contains death?
   and one of the poems contained a tree…
I am pleased to tell you…
   Mary loves trees, as do you and I, too.
But do trees love us
even with our saws and hatchets?
Why do we cut down what we love?

You told me you read this book cover to cover
like a novel, a love story.
   “You know how the climax
   comes in the middle?”
I want to cheat and peek at the middle poems
   get right to the essence of Mary, of love, of you.
I want quick answers
to those questions
that have no ready answers…

Do these poems speak to you
or speak of you between the lines
   like the space between
   rings in a tree stump
like the years between
   your beginning and end?
These poems are short,
potentially a quick read,

but I will take my time.



Upon your mother’s death

I search for a poem about fireflies
to send you maybe
Mary Oliver wrote something
about fireflies
so I don’t
have to it’s too hard
to write you too
hard to open
my heart
your grief 
I don’t know 
so I look
for a poem about fireflies
and find golden head Gannets, Whelks, Ghosts
but can you
catch them in a Mason jar
at dusk or in your fist
at nine years old
I don’t know
I didn’t know
you then or even now
but I know fireflies
and that quick swipe
on a muggy night
to catch
the light cupped
between my palms I can
crouch low on the freshly mown
lawn and peer
into the tiny cottage of darkness
I know
so I look again
for a poem about fireflies
and find Starfish, Rain in Ohio, Rage
and When Death Comes
like the hungry bear in autumn
but it is summer in Michigan
and a firefly
that lights on your wrist
as you cry it’s too hard
to be grown up these days
to be big all the time stand tall
and write you I don’t know
what to say
and it’s too hard
to write
about fireflies

------
And most recently:

A New Psalm
            for the 20th Anniversary of Bridgeport UCC 1998-2018

Do you think I know what I’m doing?
That for one breath or half-breath I belong to myself?
As much as a pen knows what it’s writing
Or the ball can guess where it’s going next.
~ Jelahuddin Rumi[1]

They asked her to do church differently.
So, the Word was Revised
and the Messenger was Mary,
“One day you finally knew
What you had to do and began…” [2]
Do you think I know what I’m doing?
Yes, they agreed:
            the curious
            the wounded
the sinners
the seekers
the fallible
            and the discontent
all God's children, wonderfully made:
            the chosen ones
            the delivered
            the pacifists and warriors
            the black, the brown
            the young, the old
            the men, the women
            and all those in between.
They came together under one roof.
            First to one house
            then to one school
            to one room
            and finally to an empty white church
                        that they painted a hopeful yellow.

And they filled the pews until the “they” became a “we”
and the Word was Rumi:
We are “folded into union
as the split-second when the bat meets the ball
and there is one cry between us.”[3]
Do you think I know what I’m doing?
As much as the ball can guess where it’s going.
She said, “Believe the good news of the gospel.
And as fallible as we are, we are no mistake.”
So we began to make a bridge and a port
            for the lonely
            the questioning
            the marginalized
            the other.
Again, the Word was Rumi:
“If you’ve not been fed, be bread.”[4]
So we made bread
and soup
protest signs
and gardens
            we made silk banners dyed with daffodils
            and we made music, so much music.
“We are clay,” we sang
until the “we” became I.
And as fallible as I am
I am no mistake?
And I am loved unconditionally?
And I am welcome at your table?
And I matter?
I sang “Testify to Love” until “I” became “you”
and you sang “…like eagle that Sunday morning…
To pray you open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you...”[5]

Do you think I know what I’m doing?
She said, “Be responsible, but carry no guilt.
Be mindful, but carry no shame.”
And again the Word was Mary:
“You do not have to be good
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.”[6]
And again the Word was Rumi:
“Out beyond the ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there”[7]
as fallible as you are
because you are no mistake

and you are loved unconditionally by God
            Beloved
            Creator
            One.

Time passed.
And the Word was Mark, “…there are no wrong turns,
only unexpected paths.” [8]
The “you” became “they”
and they found courage for renewal.
He said, “Bridgeport?  Yes!”
and the “they” became “we” again.

Time passed
then she said, “We are the church.”
We are the right and the wrong
            the pain and the balm
            the shouts and the song.
We are the death and the resurrection
            the thorn and the bloom
the soil and the seed that will sustain us.
We are peace where there is war
            and we are a sanctuary where there is none.
We are the church
and “We are God’s children, wonderfully made.
As fallible as we are, we are no mistake.
Be responsible, but carry no guilt.
Be mindful, but carry no shame.
Believe the good news of the gospel —
you are loved unconditionally by God.
May the peace of Christ be with you.”[9]









~Wendy Thompson, 6/10/2018



[1] all Rumi references translated by Coleman Barks in Open Secret: Versions of Rumi
[2] The Journey by Mary Oliver
[3] Folded Into the River by Rumi
[4] The Image of Your Body by Rumi
[5] Eagle Poem by Joy Harjo
[6] Wild Geese by Mary Oliver
[7] #158 by Rumi
[8] The Book of Awakening  by Mark Nepo
[9] Affirmation of Humanness by The Reverend Doctor Susan Leo



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