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When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
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to buy me, and snaps his purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;
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when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
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I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering;
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
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And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
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and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
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and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,
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and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
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When it's over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
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When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.
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I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.
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~ Mary Oliver
(New and Selected Poems, Volume I)
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