enjoyed this lovely poem: Bone By Mary Oliver 1. Understand, I am always trying to figure out what the soul is, and where hidden, and what shape and so, last week, when I found on the beach the ear bone of a pilot whale that may have died hundreds of years ago, I thought maybe I was close to discovering something for the ear bone 2. is the portion that lasts longest in any of us, man or whale; shaped like a squat spoon with a pink scoop where once, in the lively swimmers head, it joined its two sisters in the house of hearing, it was only two inches long and thought: the soul might be like this so hard, so necessary 3. yet almost nothing. Beside me the gray sea was opening and shutting its wave-doors, unfolding over and over its time-ridiculing roar; I looked but I couldnt see anything through its dark-knit glare; yet dont we all know, the golden sand is there at the bottom, though our eyes have never seen it, nor can our hands ever catch it 4. lest we would sift it down into fractions, and facts certainties and what the soul is, also I believe I will never quite know. Though I play at the edges of knowing, truly I know our part is not knowing, but looking, and touching, and loving, which is the way I walked on, softly, through the pale-pink morning light.
Posted on: Mon, 19 Jan 2015 05:42:52 +0000