Why did he promise me
that we would build ourselves
an ark all by ourselves
out in back of the house
on New York Avenue
in Union City New Jersey
to the singing of the streetcars
after the story
of Noah whom nobody
believed about the waters
that would rise over everything
when I told my father
I wanted us to build
an ark of our own there
in the back yard under
the kitchen could we do that
he told me that we could
I want to I said and will we
he promised me that we would
why did he promise that
I wanted us to start then
nobody will believe us
I said that we are building
an ark because the rains
are coming and that was true
nobody ever believed
we would build an ark there
nobody would believe
that the waters were coming

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Her halting baby steps into this new domain are quite touching and revealing. The poems, as always, are powerful and speak for themselves. This is one example:

Praying

It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few
small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak.

from Thirst (Poems by Mary Oliver; Beacon Press: Boston, 2006, p. 37)

Here’s a news item – at least for me! Beacon Press books are published under the auspices of the Unitarian Universalist Church. Who knew?

Here’s an audio clip of Oliver reciting “Six Recognitions of the Lord“.

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