She said that sometimes there are no rules.
And for some reason that was reassuring.
We went down to the shore.
On an ordinary, extraordinary day.
And filled our pockets with lichen and seeds.
Molly flew by in a tiny plane
Checking we weren’t taking her lover’s name in vain.
I gasped.
And laughed.
This, too, was reassuring.
She said that sometimes breaking the rules is just extending the rules.
She told me that I did not have to be good
To pay attention and then patch a few words together
Which is what I did.
These are my words. And her words.
Mashed together in a way that makes sense to me.
And maybe to others.
It doesn’t really matter.
Which is reassuring.
The sea had work to do
And so did I
For this is my one wild and precious life.
My introspective and ambitious life.
It’s a cycle of invention and reinvention.
Peeling back the layers until the soul can settle
And sing.
I had to save the only life I could save.
She told me so. And I knew anyway really.
But I didn’t know that she knew.
She spoke directly to me.
She saw things and showed them to me.
She helped me heal.
Myself.
And my relationship with poetry.
Reassuring.
Mary Oliver.
I went down to the woods with her.
Or with her words, at least, stuffed into my pocket
As I entered the darkest of times
And emerged again, more whole
With my soul on fire.
Mary Oliver.
I went down to the woods with her.
I must love her very much.
This poem was written at one of our Soul Fire Writing Retreats, and was published as part of an Anthology at: https://writeonchangemakers.com/2022/11/11/soul-fire-anthology-inspired-by-mary-oliver/