Mary Oliver‘s poem “Lines Written in the Days of Growing Darkness” appeared in the New York Times last Sunday, while we were visiting a friend who had recently made the decision to forego treatment of a deadly cancer, and live out her life, eyes wide open.
Every year we have been
witness to it: how the
into a rich mash, in order that
it may resume.
who would cry out
to the petals on the ground
knowing, as we must,
how the vivacity of what was is married
to the vitality of what will be?
I don’t say
it’s easy, but
what else will do
if the love one claims to have for the world
So let us go on
though the sun be swinging east,
and the ponds be cold and black,
and the sweets of the year be doomed.
Our friend’s sense of things echoes the poem’s; they could have been her words…
“…the world descends into a rich mash, in order that it may resume…the vivacity of what was is married to the vitality of what will be…let us go on…”
Once again, the reminder we needed appeared.
With deep thanks to Maureen Rolla.
Moon phase image via apstas.com.