I know all of you are poem lovers like me… right?
I fell in love with a poem by Mary Oliver titled “I Worried.” A crucial message came home to me in a beautiful manner. I can’t come close to saying it as well as Mary did, so I’m sharing her poem:
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?
Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?
Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.
Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?
Finally, I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.
Thank you, Mary. I went outside this beautiful morning and sang. No neighbor complained. Nor have I received any compliments. But I don’t care. I’m feeling spectacular.