A Comforting Poem

"Pensive? No, Just Thinking" readers haven't tended to respond to poetry when I post it, but still I persist. Why? A good poem entertains or provides insight using words in an interesting, thought-provoking way. Poetry is an underappreciated art in America, although it's been making a resurgence in our society in recent years. I am part of that movement, albeit in a small and perhaps-not-far-reaching way.

Okay, off my soapbox now. After the recent sudden death of a member of a professional listserve to which I belong, another listserve member offered this poem as comfort to those who knew well the dearly departed and were shocked at his loss. If you have ever had a loved one (family or friend) die, you may appreciate this poem's important message delivered in simple language and compelling images:

"In Blackwater Woods"
by Mary Oliver

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

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

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

of the ponds,
and every pond,
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
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.