Monday, February 9, 2015

The Fist by Mary Oliver

The Fist

There are days
when the sun goes down
like a fist,
though of course

if you see anything 
in the heavens
in this way
you had better get

your eyes checked
or, better still,
your diminished spirit.
The heavens

have no fist,
or would they have been
shaking it
for a thousand years now,

and even longer than that,
at the dull, brutish
ways of mankind --

heaven's own 
Instead: such patience!
Such willingness 
to let us continue!
To hear,
little by little,
the voices --

only, so far, in 
pockets of the world --
the possibilities

of peace?
Keep looking.
Behold, how the fist opens
with invitation.

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