i relistened to an interview of mary oliver yesterday. her poem wild geese is what inspired me to want to write poetry myself.
although, don’t know if i’ll ever get to her level, she has a quiet sensitivy from within that comes from being in nature and being alone. being so poor as a writer sometimes that she had to go foraging for food. and yet, in her writing, there is such a trust of nature and that it will nourish, it seems freeing.
attention without feeling, don’t do it
today’s prompt was about death and in writing about death, i had the feeling that i’m still trapped but writing is slowly starting to get things out of me, outside of my mind, making them more real. more concrete so they can be dealt with. i hope to some day also have that trust in the world, to become a softer person. not always so guarded against what the future and my mind might hold.
“I Go Down To The Shore
I go down to the shore in the morning
and depending on the hour the waves
are rolling in or moving out,
and I say, oh, I am miserable,
what shall—
what should I do? And the sea says
in its lovely voice:
Excuse me, I have work to do.”
-Mary Oliver
https://www.newyorker.com/culture/postscript/mary-oliver-deep-direct-love-for-the-world
