On National Poetry Day

That time I thought I could not 

go any closer to grief 

without dying.

I went closer

and did not die.

Surely God

had His hand in this,

as well as friends.

Still, I was bent,

and my laughter,

as the poet said,

was nowhere to be found.

Then said my friend Daniel

(brave even among lions),

"It's not the weight you carry

but how you carry it -

books, bricks, grief -

it's all in the way 

you embrace it, balance it, carry it

when you cannot, and would not,

put it down"

So I went practicing.

Have you noticed?

Have you heard

the laughter

that comes, now and again,

out of my startled mouth?

How I linger

to admire, admire, admire

the things of this world 

that are kind, and maybe

also troubled -

roses in the wind,

the sea geese on the steep waves,

a love

to which there is no reply?

Mary Oliver: Heavy