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Other`s Poems

In Blackwater Woods

Look, the trees are turning
their own bodies Into pillars

of light, are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfilment,

The long tapers of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds, and every pind,
no matter what its name is, is

nameless now. Every year, Everything
I have ever learned in my lifetime
leads back to this; the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation, whose meaning
None of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able to do three things;
To love what is mortal;
To hold it

against your bones knowing
our own life depends on it,
and, when the time comes to let it go,
-To let it go.

-Mary Oliver-

© AriZonaMoon 2008