Culture | Poetry

Another Dance

“Don’t call this world adorable, or useful, that’s not it.
It’s frisky, and a theater for more than fair winds.”
Mary Oliver, Where Does the Dance Begin, Where Does It End?

When the world show you more than fair winds (this week surely did that), a sprinkling of Mary Oliver poetry soothes the soul. Don’t think I don’t recognize the tendency to turn this blog into a Mary Oliver fan page, and really I’ve tried to move to other things, but too often Oliver seems to have the words readily available. Funny how a few words piled together just so seems to center you. To harden your resolve to get through the darkest days with an eye towards the light.

“Doesn’t the wind, turning in circles, invent the dance?”

I don’t suppose the angry mob has time for poetry. It’s clear they aren’t dancing joyfully through life either. Spun up in conspiracy and hate, and believing false gods. They can’t see beauty when they’re blind with rage.

But we can. So long as we continue to look for it. Hate burns out when it runs out of fuel.

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