Mary Oliver


You can 
die for it– 
an idea, 
or the world. People

have done so, 
their small bodies be bound

to the stake, 
an unforgettable  fury of light. But

this morning, 
climbing the familiar hills  
in the familiar 
fabric of dawn, I thought

of China, 
and India 
and Europe, and I thought  
how the sun

for everyone just  
so joyfully 
as it rises

under the lashes 
of my own eyes, and I thought  
I am so many! 
What is my name?

What is the name 
of the deep breath I would take  
over and over 
for all of us? Call it

whatever you want, it is  
happiness, it is another one  
of the ways to enter 

spoken = Susannah Wood