At Blackwater Pond
by: Mary Oliver
At Blackwater Pond the tossed waters have settled
after a night of rain.
I dip my cupped hands. I drink
a long time. It tastes
like stone, leaves, fire. It falls cold
into my body, waking the bones. I hear them
deep inside me, whispering
oh what is that beautiful thing
that just happened?
Like Oliver's bones, we are all sometimes shocked by beautiful things that happen to us.
Sometimes, that beautiful thing is an unexpected letter, card, email, or text. My niece sent me this text right before the awards ceremony on Sunday, where I was named Writer of the Year:
I won't make it tonight to your ceremony, but I am soooo proud of you! There's no one more deserving than you!
My daughter, the day after I received the award, sent me this message:
just wanted to tell you how proud i am to have you as my father, im so happy to see you be recognized for your work last night as you're the hardest working person i know. the foundation you set for me in english, poetry, art, and music has allowed me to never be afraid to express myself and always be a creative soul. i love you sooo much and i'm forever grateful that i somehow got lucky enough to have someone as caring, thoughtful, kind, and supportive as you to be my dad.💓💓
I not ashamed to say that I cried when I got both of these texts. A lot. Two beautiful things that fell out of the sky into my hands. I know that my niece loves me. I know that my daughter loves me. But to have my niece say she's proud of me, to have my child say that she's lucky to have me as a father . . . Well, it was better than the award itself. Pardon my language, but it proved to me that I've done something fucking right in my life.
And tonight, I had two more beautiful things happen: beautiful readings by two poet friends--Dennis Hinrichsen and Andrew Collard. It was an hour of absolute joy listening to them read from their new books, Sprawl and Flesh-plastique. Their poems were moving, astonishing, challenging, and true to the bone. I was blessed by their words.
So, if you can't tell, Saint Marty is sort of blissed out this evening. The world contains so much love and wonder and beauty.
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