Some Questions You Might
Ask
Is the
soul solid, like iron?
Or is it tender and breakable, like
the wings of a moth in the beak of the owl?
Who has it, and who doesn’t?
I keep looking around me.
The face of the moose is as sad
as the face of Jesus.
The swan opens her white wings slowly.
In the fall, the black bear carries leaves into the darkness.
One question leads to another.
Does it have a shape? Like an iceberg?
Like the eye of a hummingbird?
Does it have one lung, like the snake and the scallop?
Why should I have it, and not the anteater
who loves her children?
Why should I have it, and not the camel?
Come to think of it, what about the maple trees?
What about the blue iris?
What about all the little stones, sitting alone in the moonlight?
What about roses, and lemons, and their shining leaves?
What about the grass?
Or is it tender and breakable, like
the wings of a moth in the beak of the owl?
Who has it, and who doesn’t?
I keep looking around me.
The face of the moose is as sad
as the face of Jesus.
The swan opens her white wings slowly.
In the fall, the black bear carries leaves into the darkness.
One question leads to another.
Does it have a shape? Like an iceberg?
Like the eye of a hummingbird?
Does it have one lung, like the snake and the scallop?
Why should I have it, and not the anteater
who loves her children?
Why should I have it, and not the camel?
Come to think of it, what about the maple trees?
What about the blue iris?
What about all the little stones, sitting alone in the moonlight?
What about roses, and lemons, and their shining leaves?
What about the grass?
—Mary Oliver
image: She Who Is
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loss.
ReplyDeletea heavy way to start a new blank page.
and yet the poem by mary is so beautiful.
comforting somehow. as she always can be.
and your friend? maybe the soul remains as long as you have memories shared.
that's what i like to think.
and i like to think that there's something else after this.
magnificient new planes and planets to live within and upon. and adventures to share with all the memory souls who left too soon.
and i like to think there will be all my dogs there.
♥ to you christie.
Yes, I think you're right—those dear departed souls are with us, all around, and there is something after where our dogs are all waiting for us, noses pressed up against the glass. Thank you for the lovely thoughts.
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