For Mary Oliver

Photo: Rachel Giese Brown

You are living, always,

in the space between breaths.

Gentle, you held the moments,

sensing their fragility

like eggshells on rocks.

Now the moments hold you.

The trees return your embrace,

recognizing,

honoring,

seeing in you what you saw in them;

the foxes, the sparrows, the wild geese,

the doe who met you in silence,

dear sweet redbird,

the turtles, and the grasshopper -

this grasshopper, I mean -

and the prayer-grass and the mountains,

and the stones that wear patience like a face -

all the wonders of your world wonder at your life.

They bow their heads -

the streams and the mountains, all -

and they say:

here there was a child of ecstacy,

a wild and holy thing,

and how we loved to watch her dance.

© CASEE MARIE

Hildene: Manchester, VT

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Hildene

The Lincoln Family Home

Manchester, VT

At Cliff's Edge

I want to breathe,

deeply and vigorously,

with the wild sensation

of my own aliveness,

the staggering awareness

of being whole.

I want to learn to rest

in a moment,

to honor it,

and to fold myself

into presence.

I want to know

what it feels like to move

through the moments with ease

and grace.

I want to be of space,

open and glorious

and made of stars.

I want to touch

the tender core

of love with hands

that know truth,

compassion,

devotion.

And through it all

the exhilarating act,

to breathe.

© CASEE MARIE

Further reading…

celestial

The stars will be our homes again

when our bodies return

to celestial matter, and I

will shine the brightest

for all that I have loved.

Morning Light

Break softly, if you must break,

and in the end you must -

or is it the beginning?

Break gently, with the knowledge

that your unfolding holds a

certain mystic peace

and a quiet throbbing

of purpose.

Such things can be said

of mornings,

and of hearts.

© Casee Marie

Eternity

Take this feeling from me
and instead
give
me
abandon;
give me the earth-body
made of clay
and roots,
stone heart
and willowed spirit.

Cast me to the wild
at once a seedling
and a wizened oak
give me moss flesh
and dew-drop eyes
and leave me
                    to grow.

Return to find me
years
centuries
millenia
from now.
I will encompass all
as the quaking,
benevolent creature
of my fearsome heart’s desire.

© CASEE MARIE