Saturday, July 6, 2024

The Dwelling

 


Linking with Shay's wonderful Word Garden word list. This week the words are taken from a beautiful poetry collection written by the one and only Mary Oliver.  Come join us!


I dream of a house that no longer stands,

yet the creaking of wood floors still echoes in my poems.

The hours sleep hard and endless, you see it is August every day here.

Miles and the busyness of life are snow falling in summer and

your words are books burning before their time.

Grief has a generosity that swells like wet wood and feet can.

Timeless it lingers hidden in the quiet of remembering

 and still blinds us in the light ahead.

Yet, I hold its hand willingly,

for my heart is still holding on to you.



5 comments:

  1. "Grief has a generosity that swells like wet wood and feet can." The most marvelous and original line I've read in some while, Carrie. I had never considered that grief might be imbued with a certain generosity. What a memorable poem.

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  2. Oh that ending blew me away, Carrie! What a touching poem!

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  3. Every line arranged with such singular ease: "you see it is August every day here" -- sets the tone of grief and loss -- and then to arrive at "Grief has a generosity that swells like wet wood and feet" prepares us for the heart "still holding on to you." Beautifully written, Carrie.

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  4. Oh, this is excellent! A deep and moving portrayal of grief, Carrie.

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  5. This is beautiful, Carrie. I noted the same lines quoted and especially love your closing lines. I know the feeling so well.

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