Friday, October 01, 2010

Lead - Mary Oliver

Here is a story
to break your heart.
Are you willing?
This winter
the loons came to our harbor
and died, one by one,
of nothing we could see.
A friend told me
of one on the shore
that lifted its head and opened
the elegant beak and cried out
in the long, sweet savoring of its life
which, if you have heard it,
you know is a sacred thing,
and for which, if you have not heard it,
you had better hurry to where
they still sing.
And, believe me, tell no one
just where that is.
The next morning
this loon, speckled
and iridescent and with a plan
to fly home
to some hidden lake,
was dead on the shore.
I tell you this
to break your heart,
by which I mean only
that it break open and never close again
to the rest of the world.


Eric Alder said...

This is a wonderful peace! I enjoy seeing and hearing loons too. There are loons on the lake where we go camping every year. We walk down to the lake shore early, while the fog is still drifting on the water, and listen to the loon-calls greet the day.

Eric Alder said...

(I meant piece, wonderful piece.

Although there is a wonderful peace within it as well... that is, until the loons started dying.