Saturday, August 11, 2007

Gone Silent

Recently one of my blogger friends went silent. I hope to find voice in a new way; although it makes me sad that I cannot hear it. Sad because the silence, it seems, was induced by hurtfulness. Or a need to ponder life from another medium. Or something I know not. Whatever the cause, silence is the result, public silence, anyway.

So. I offer this poem. A tribute to a friend whose voice I hear only in my memories. I hope my friend is finding life full and rich and very much alive in other ways.

The Honey Tree (Mary Oliver)

And so at last I climbed
the honey tree, ate
chunks of pure light, ate
the bodies of bees that could not
get out of my way, ate
the dark hair of the leaves,
the rippling bark,
the heartwood. Such
frenzy! But joy does that,
I'm told, in the beginning.
Later, maybe,
I'll come here only
sometimes and with a
middling hunger. But now
I climb like a snake,
I clamber like a bear to
the nuzzling place, to the light
salvaged by the thighs
of bees and racked up
in the body of the tree.
Oh, anyone can see
how I love myself at last!
how I love the world! climbing
by day or night
in the wind, in the leaves, kneeling
at the secret rip, the cords
of my body stretching
and singing in the
heaven of appetite.

9 comments:

"PS" said...

I hope she reads this.

Cathy said...

I'm missing her too...

Diane said...

oh, lovely... and I'm sad too.

Diane said...

I think she may be back...

Songbird said...

Thank you, for the poem and the thoughts. I think I am back.

mompriest said...

Oh, you are so welcome. I too hope you are back, but I also hope you do what you need to do.

Diane said...

Ir's a lovely poem, at any rate. We are all getting kind of addicted to Mary Oliver.

mompriest said...

I've also been reading a lot of Denise Leverton. Good stuff, but a lot of whaher stuff that I've been reading is dated, Vietnam War. Some though are also liturgical: ie Mass for the day of St. Thomas Didymus... a long poem.

Mary Beth said...

You makin me cry.

thanks

I will with God's help....uncomplicating the complicated

I was baptized when I was nine years old. I have vivid memories of the baptism itself, of being terrified, as I was fully immersed three ti...