Mindful

By Mary Oliver

Every day

I see or hear

Something

That more or less

Kills me

With delight,

That leaves me

Like a needle

In the haystack

Of light.

It is what I was born for--

To look, to listen,

To lose myself

Inside this soft world--

To instruct myself

Over and over

In joy,

And acclamation.

Nor am I talking

About the exceptional,

The fearful, the dreadful,

The very extravagant--

But of the ordinary,

The common, the very drab,

The daily presentations.

Oh, good scholar,

I say to myself,

How can you help

But grow wise

With such teachings

As these--

The untrimmable light

Of the world,

The ocean's shine,

The prayers that are made

Out of grass?

In My Room

By Brian Wilson

There's a world where I can go and tell my secrets to
In this world I lock out all my worries and my fears:

Do my dreaming and my scheming
Lie awake and pray
Do my crying and my sighing
Laugh at yesterday

Now it's dark and I'm alone but I won't be afraid

In my room.

Dirge Without Music

By Edna St. Vincent Millay

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.

So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind:

Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.  Crowned

With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.

Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.

A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew,

A formula, a phrase remains,—but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love,—

They are gone.  They are gone to feed the roses.  Elegant and curled

Is the blossom.  Fragrant is the blossom.  I know.  But I do not approve.

More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave

Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;

Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.

I know.  But I do not approve.  And I am not resigned.

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52773/dirge-without-music

After the still small voice

-Yehuda Amichai

a noise

And after the noise,

a still small voice.

And after it, a noise.

And after it, a still small voice

And after the still small voice,

a noise.

Discard the rest.

Aunt Jennifer's Tigers

By Adrienne Rich

Aunt Jennifer's tigers prance across a screen,
Bright topaz denizens of a world of green.
They do not fear the men beneath the tree;
They pace in sleek chivalric certainty.

Aunt Jennifer's finger fluttering through her wool
Find even the ivory needle hard to pull.
The massive weight of Uncle's wedding band
Sits heavily upon Aunt Jennifer's hand.

When Aunt is dead, her terrified hands will lie
Still ringed with ordeals she was mastered by.
The tigers in the panel that she made
Will go on prancing, proud and unafraid.

Just say if I’m disturbing you,

He said as he stepped over the threshold,

And I'll leave immediately.

You do more than disturb me,

I answered,

You turn my whole existence upside down.

Welcome.

-  Eeva Kilpi (1928 - )

Thirst

 by Mary Oliver

Another morning and I wake with thirst
for the goodness I do not have. I walk
out to the pond and all the way God has
given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord,
I was never a quick scholar but sulked
and hunched over my books past the hour
and the bell; grant me, in your mercy,
a little more time. Love for the earth
and love for you are having such a long
conversation in my heart. Who knows what
will finally happen or where I will be sent,
yet already I have given a great many things
away, expecting to be told to pack nothing,
except the prayers which, with this thirst,
I am slowly learning.