a poem by Mary Oliver, written in 2005 after her partner’s death . . .
AFTER HER DEATH
I am trying to find the lesson
For tomorrow. Matthew something.
Which lectionary? I have not
forgotten the Way., but, a little,
the way to the Way. The trees keep whispering
peace, peace, and the birds
in the shallows are full of the
bodies of small fish and are
content. They open their wings
so easily, and fly. So. It is still
possible.
I open the book
which is strange, difficult, beautiful church
has given me. Matthew Anywhere.
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