Mary Oliver has always been one of my favorite poets.
She comes to each of her poems in awe of the natural world around her. She lets her heart wander and make mistakes. And she allows her words to shimmer — and to stay kind and clear and honest in their shimmering.
Whenever I read a Mary Oliver poem, I am spoken to with a soft firmness: You are here. You are here. You are here. There is nowhere to go, no one to see, no one to be. I feel as though I am given permission to stop moving, doing, going — to just sit beneath a tree and watch the world. And I am reminded of this (because I often forget), poem after poem after poem.
There is one poem of hers in particular that I would like to share with you here. I have come back to this poem again and again for years now — especially the last few lines. It is one that I have written out in longhand, hung on my wall, sent to close friends, and listened for, everywhere and in everything.
Maybe you won’t like it, and that’s okay.
But maybe, just maybe, it will reach some of the quietest places inside of you.
Here is “When I am Among the Trees” by Mary Oliver:
When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world,
but walk slowly, and bow often.Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,
“and you too have come
into this world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine.”
This poem is here for you whenever you need it.
In moments when you let your mind run wild with worry or doubt or unworthiness or a need to control an outcome, let these words remind you of the certainty in your heart with a quick and tender rinse: You are here. You are here. You are here.
Happy reading,
Z.K.
