Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Bells

by Mary Oliver     Logos
                          
                              Why wonder about the loaves and the fishes?
                               If you say the right words, the wine expands.
                               If you say them with love
                               and the felt ferocity of that love,
                               the fish explode into many.
                               Imagine him speaking,
                               and don't worry about what is reality,
                               or what is plain, or what is mysterious.
                               If you were there, it was all those things.
                               If you can imagine it, it is all those things.
                               Eat, drink, be happy.
                               Accept the miracle.
                               Accept, too, each spoken word
                               spoken with love.



                                                                                       At the end of the day; of the
                                                    week and the month, we 
                                                    can look back with regret
                                                    or we can remember to
                                                    rejoice.  soultalker



       
Bells

When you ring the bells for me
remember the time I wasn't
like this, forget the breaks and
aches

I threw in your lap I wasn't 
punishing you, you or you.
It was me, me, and me that
had thrown fits and clumps
of dirt in the air.  If I hit you
it's because I throw like a girl

I made a stand and then let
myself swing at anything that
moved at the corner of my eye
which no longer had sight.

How could I possibly ever get
it right.  I pushed this pen, the
red one too.  Hit, clicked and
typed as one ought to with
electronically messages from
me to you, you, and you. 


It's all in my head but I wish I
was preoccupied with baking
bread, stirring soup and the
phone rang putting silly ideas
in my head about poems and
even typing them correctly.


When I was disconnected, my
life went on cheerily.