The Sun: a poem and a pic

Mary Oliver: The Sun
Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful
than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon
and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone–
and how it slides again
out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower...

Full poem here: http://www.phys.unm.edu/~tw/fas/yits/archive/oliver_thesun.html 

Pic: Sunset on my way home. Despite everything, the beauty of our world is just so breathtaking...

the first cousin to die

for Sunil

I'm always eight, you're always fourteen

in the long time ago that lasts forever 

I know now I'll never see you again

you have other people to haunt and anyway

 they probably want to hang with you--

the dad you lost at two, your young uncle...

all those men in your family who died young

it's why your mother, grandmother, sister 

 dote on you, as if to try to keep you forever 

I wondered how you had more friends than books

I confused you too--I remember when you 

congratulated me about my school exams, 

and seemed so confused why it was important...

 I mean--you were so rich you didn't have to work

--and I don't think you did even at 40, right?

but you were always kind... if a bit ganja-fueled 

when a single kindness could keep me happy

for days. I wonder at my dad saying

I shouldn't be alone with you... I feel you loved 

my gentle dad, wished he were yours

in the sheerness of the childhood--

which brightened us up... now only if this end

too could lift us up... instead it sets us adrift... 

as if to warn us we're going... extinct 

_________________________________________

Pic: An icy, windy day--but oh, such brilliantly blue, sunshiny skies. A long walk with Big A to the MSU Baseball stadium. 

what we do

the sky is full of bright 

holes, so whatever falls

from  them  is starry-- 

starting from distance 

but  now  lodged here

like empathy turned

into  a fact,  eternal

and  then carefully

teaching us to crest 

in  announcements

on  days  when  our

world seems ready to 

ignite, we can shout:

"I love you so much"

in a room of strangers

_________________________________

Pic: Max and Nu in yesterday's surprise snow. 

in every register

my thoughts grow still 

in a landscape slowing

with  sleep, reckoning

now embalms the day

today  I  have  filled

my  heart  again  and 

again... today I willed

my soul to feel beauty 

for on learning in me 

the enduring vapor 

of stars; the brilliant 

 brevities of  flowers

I choose from the new

the needed next step... 

I will see the end arrive

still speaking only love 

_____________

Pic: Saying goodbye to Huckie and Maxie is the toughest part of my morning.

on not meeting expectations

I don't like my grade the student says
You're not from here, are you?
the student says

So where are you actually from? 

(India!) I thought so...

student smiles

I got the assignment wrong because

of your language (English?) 

the student says

It is so rude of you, the student says

to say... that my assignment 

didn't meet expectations

____________________________________________

Note: This came from a long and unsettling office-hour exchange with my one disgruntled student today. It felt demeaning and I was so... crushed. Luckily, it was also the day our PR team had alerted me to an alumni interview which spoke glowingly of me, so I had some balance. But I'd been working on a new version of our land and labor acknowledgment, so it also felt like I'd been wrestling with issues of prejudice all day. 

Pic: No pic today--it was too, too hectic. My Thursdays are so long that they've become standard Subway-for-dinner days--Big A picks them up between his clinic and hospital shifts.

an infinity

the curl of this wave... like
the undeniable curl of a smile
the curl of my hand inside yours

I may be in love with 

the unbothered way it spills

over... of how its crimped cusp

holds in everything: 

laughter erupting unruly

the turns and returns of grief 

look how tightly it wraps

itself around us, so we know 

its whorl could swallow us whole  

_________________________

Pic: Not Michigan. On the beach in Cabo a few days ago. 

not here

the seasons may be changing 

but longing is replaced with

longing over here

I can hear you calling for me

and turn around eagerly

but all is empty here

you must have moved away 

where did you go--you 

who were once here?

I pretend I'm with you and alive

supposing I live only because 

you haunt me here

_____________________

Pic: Oh, the irony! A sudden thaw and now there are giant puddles in the backyard everywhere... except in the pond we dug! I laughed every time I caught sight of this today. 

from a place of absence

Scout's  harness in a Ziploc

stays a  door always ajar

becomes a souvenir in

a sweet completeness 

of loss... nostalgia

Scout's photo on the altar 
has guarded so fiercely 
hellish trails of regret 
just my two eyes...
all these tears

___________________________

Pic: Snow and sky in the backyard this weekend. The last couple of days have been so foggy... I've been white-knuckling it to and from work as visibility is very low, especially in low-lying pockets, and it's easy to imagine shapes where there aren't any and miss objects that only loom up at the last minute.

winter afternoon

the book forgotten in my hands

this blood rush in my wrists 

leaves of light and insight 

quickly extinguished 

by my impatience for happiness

the dear, vulgar excitements--

where I embrace your 

suspended grace 

expecting your face will soften

when I say my wild gladness 

doesn't know where to end--

has only learned to bloom 

_____________

Pic: From this afternoon's walk with Big A. The Red Cedar is frozen upstream, but here by the rapids, there were crowds of mallards with their emerald plumage and ridiculous orange feet. 

infinitesimal

falling  where I  stand

fireworks and splinters 

of every moment's joy 

waving back like seas.

Every time  I  wonder--

if  this  is the  last time

Every time I remember--

it could be the last time 

I keep  up  conversations

with my body, its  borders 

while stars fall into my lap,

songs dissolve into laughter.

Pic: One of Max's many cuddly contortions with Big A.

buried in an obituary

            with MMN

keep your grip tight, I'm afraid 

of slipping away from life

a spectator, a specter

            It's because the days followed 

            us everywhere we went

            Right? Is that why?

I reach into my breast pocket
for a snack and I pull out 

a rib, a nipple, a heart

          I'll decorate this door on both 

          sides--you won't even know 

          if we're coming or going

______________________

Pic: Blue skies and a slight improvement on my back today. I'm a bit giddy with relief. 

mystery/mastery

the "V' of birds overhead

is a rippling wake

the sky uniform and infinite

steals the sun

the coastline's broken crags 

catch in my voice

we are a world into which 

many worlds fit 

but still tomorrow will not

come until

I have finished toying

with today 

--------------

 

Pic: snow flurries along the Red Cedar while out with Big A.

leap

How tired the world

how long the way
how we have been 

survivors for over

365 days

may the new year 

be kind, enormous,

hold us in peace

may it gently--

24/7--teach us

to resist, to vary 

history's encore--

the hum of hope

its own language

in 2024

__________________________

Other New Year's Day poems:

New Year

Often 

Jan 1st 

Took the Kids to Yoga Today

Pic: Our holiday card!

1 2 3 1 2 3

As the internet has it, today is 123123 (12/31/23--only in the US with our weird month-before-date practice, but still); pretty cute.

I'm very dissatisfied that I haven't done my weekend chores (caretaking plants, vacuuming) going into the new year, but c'est la vie. Nu came over to gently hug me when I was worrying about this and said: "Don't worry, mama! You'll get it done, you always do." I had thought they were going to offer to help me, (LOL) but this is sweet too. 

Also, health is SUCH a privilege. My standards really dropped yesterday. Although Nu was having a sleepover, I didn't make food, check linens, etc. I couldn't. It helped that the guest was celiac and carries their own food, but still.

At 9:00 pm today, I'm headed off to the NYE write-in with the lovely Pooja Makhijani and crew. My plans are to finish the annual New Year's Day poem and work on a couple of projects. 

There's some lingering and irrational sadness today because of all the strange and unsettling dreams from yesterday. But all told, still a good day. I'm glad to have recovered. Grateful for people who light lamps for me when my light flickers. Grateful for family, friends, kindness, and decency in this hurting world. Oh, how I wish Scout were here with me every day. I'm grateful to Max for making me laugh every day.  I am absolutely stunned by the moments of beauty and grace life continues to bring. I hope all of it and justice too will come to all of us. "Ring out the thousand wars of old / Ring in the thousand years of peace."

Pic: I'm in love with this dead branch absolutely bejeweled with moss (from a soggy walk with Max and Huck).

shelter

trees seem to really

need each other
waves too ...

even stones primordial

and lonely need

other stones 

for blessed are the homes

and families made of

what we have 

we could ask: why we are

inventing new

differences

as our world falls apart 

as our words break

and separate  

misplacing m-o-t-h-e-r-s 

into emptily echoing 

o-t-h-e-r-s

_____________

Pic: A shelter made of branches we saw on the Pinckney Potawatomi Trail on Sunday. I wonder if they are live branches that will green in the Spring. I can't wait for Spring... we've now had several of these soggy, grey days that L calls "dome days," because it feels like a grey dome has been placed over us. We had to hurry back to the trailhead on Sunday because daylight was fading fast and as it turned out, there was no sunset--just a fading into darkness. We were glad to make it back to the trailhead before we had to use our headlamps. The nice part was seeing all the light displays in Pinckney as we drove home. 

finding a center

                    I learn my lessons 

                    from trees who

pull me into the world

all leap and vigor

                    to fall into sudden

                    serene returns

in cushioned shadows

hard as thunder 

                    under vanished arches 

                    grasses drink

at ever new horizons

of fear/wonder

______________________

Pic: The rapids of the Red Cedar across from Spartan Stadium. I took myself out for a long walk to clear my head for a writing project. I was surprised by the number of work emails in my inbox--isn't everyone supposed to be on break until the new year?!

a morning manifesto

(story)

Every morning, with 

exactly seven squeezes 

of lemon in my tea

I feel like every child 

who has ever dreamed 

of being free

(start)

and although the future 

turns out differently 

than it used to be 

everything is still birthed 

and broken, cracked 

open--I still believe 

(stutter) 

I... still try... for love

--here on the ground 

we... could be... become 

a surround... a vast tent... 

a tenderness for children as they 

throw their arms to the sky

_____________________________

Pic: The Red Cedar from the woods behind L's house. It's funny how things get into our heads. I've always liked pictures of the water, but as I was taking this photo, I could hear Engie saying somewhere how she always wants to photograph reflections.

apostrophe

I know I can retell the stories 
until I get them right... 

            I may never get them right

            don't be afraid, maya

it's just... the sky is falling
my body is failing 

            there's room right about here 

            for a quiet chorus 

but I hear only stalled words

vowels leave, aiyo aiyo 

            like an ocean finding freedom

            deep inside me

and though disaster is far away

I'm right here, waiting 

____________ 

Pic: I got some mall-style Winter Wonderland when I dropped off some stuff at the Fretail Store. (I'm so happy this store, which gives people the experience of shopping while giving away things for free, exists in Lansing.) Today was also a day I had to pick up Huck and Max from the groomers and then turn around to take Nu and myself to the dentist. This is what happens when I press pause on all non essential appointments in the final weeks of class. I guess I was tired; I fell asleep while the dentist and hygienist were still peering into my mouth.

life or something like that

I wonder if there's an alternate 
autobiography somewhere
just a shift of a world away

                          in a "nice" arranged marriage
                          where my words have wars 
                          locked into them 

or one with so many or no kids 
I am--again--lost amongst

lives falling fast as rain

                           perhaps I grow angry like stars 

                           beginning to dim at dawn

                           all heavy and alone 

today (at least) all the alternatives 

seem wrong, basic, way less than

reality's own beloved mess

___________

Pic: Huck, Big A, and big baby Max. Behind them the clutter of life--mail, walking leashes, dart board, magazines. On the magazine rack, I can see my face peeking from the top rack from when I won that teaching award earlier this year!

"praying for peace/living with love"

The world is so beautiful and the world is so terrifying. Over 17,000 people have been killed by bombs and gunfire in the past eight weeks... It's so strange how I still go about as if everything is ok... Although my country vetoed a humanitarian ceasefire yet again. 

I think of the children holding a press conference in English--a language foreign to them--to beg the world not to bomb them. And yet, over 7000 Gazan children have been killed in just these two months; many thousands more are maimed and injured for life. I think in particular about the mother holding her lifeless baby saying she took 580 IVF injections to have him; the tender searchers in the rubble after every airstrike. I think of how many hospitals, schools, and homes have been bombed, the patients, medical staff, students, teachers, and families in them evanesced. No poem can contain my grief. Nothing can calm my disbelief that this is happening so publicly... so blatantly.

Sunny Singh, who has always been so kind to me and my students lost a friend today--he was a fellow teacher of English and a poet. His name was Refaat al-Aareer. In a better world I might have met him some day at a reading or a conference or in someone's home. And he is just one of thousands who is gone suddenly and too soon with their hopes and dreams still pending. This is a poem he wrote last week:

If I must die

you must live to tell my story

to sell my things

to buy a piece of cloth

and some strings,

(make it white with a long tail)

so that a child,

somewhere in Gaza

while looking heaven

in the eye awaiting his

dad who left in a blaze-

and bid no one farewell

not even to his flesh not even to himself-

sees the kite,

my kite you made,

flying up above

and thinks for a moment an angel is there bringing back love

If I must die

let it bring hope

let it be a tale

_______________

Pic: Baker Woods with RS yesterday. She asked me if it would look bad if she celebrated Hanukkah with all that is going on. I told her we'd be lighting lamps with Nu (Big A's great grandparents were Jewish and there is a family menorah/hanukkiah). I'm glad we have celebrations. I want us to put away our bombs and celebrate life. (I saw the words I used for the title of this post on a church's marquee this morning on my way to work.)