the deepening ground

Having not posted anything by Mary Oliver in awhile, I wondered if she had any poetry related to Independence Day. A quick online search led me to a post on “Improvised Life: A Treasury of Inspiring Ideas.” Allegedly, a poem my wife has loved for years, first read in Mary Oliver’s Why I Wake Early, was inspired by Oliver’s discovery of a pilot whale’s ear bone on a July 4th walk along the beach. (However, I question the date of 2010 as the poem was published by 2004.) Though the poem itself has nothing specifically to do with what we in the United States of America celebrate on the Fourth of July, its reminder that “our part is not knowing, / but looking, and touching, and loving” transcends cultures and time, reminding us of the purpose of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

Happy Fourth of July to the world! May you all continue to discover the deep and lasting happiness that comes from a life full of looking, touching, and loving, free from the world’s many distractions of imposter life.

BONE
by mary oliver

1.

Understand, I am always trying to figure out
what the soul is,
and where hidden,
and what shape —

and so, last week,
when I found on the beach
the ear bone
of a pilot whale that may have died

hundreds of years ago, I thought
maybe I was close
to discovering something —
for the ear bone

2.

is the portion that lasts longest
in any of us, man or whale; shaped
like a squat spoon
with a pink scoop where

once, in the lively swimmer’s head,
it joined its two sisters
in the house of hearing,
it was only

two inches long —
and I thought: the soul
might be like this —
so hard, so necessary —

3.

yet almost nothing.
Beside me
the gray sea
was opening and shutting its wave-doors,

unfolding over and over
its time-ridiculing roar;
I looked but I couldn’t see anything
through its dark-knit glare;

yet don’t we all know, the golden sand
is there at the bottom,
though our eyes have never seen it,
nor can our hands ever catch it

4.

lest we would sift it down
into fractions, and facts —
certainties —
and what the soul is, also

I believe I will never quite know.
Though I play at the edges of knowing,
truly I know
our part is not knowing,

but looking, and touching, and loving,
which is the way I walked on,
softly,
through the pale-pink morning light.

From Why I Wake Early: New Poems by Mary Oliver, 2004: pgs. 4-6. (NOTE: In the published text the entire poem is center justified)