Friday, 21 March 2014

A Hermit Life For Me

My imagination has been a seashell brimming with nostalgic memories of the sea...

And time spent on top of a lonely rock anticipating sunrise and contemplating sunset..

And dreaming...

Of a house on my back

And words made beautiful by Mary Oliver

Once I looked inside
of a shell folded like a pastry
and there was a fancy face—

or almost a face—
it turned away
and frisked up its brawny forearms

against the light
and my looking in
I scarcely had time to see it,

Under the pure white roof
of old calcium
When I set it down, it hurried
Along the tideline

of the sea,
which was slashing along as usual,
shouting and hissing
toward the future

turning its back
with every tide on the past,
leaving the shore littered
every morning

with more ornaments of death—
what a pearly rubble
From which to choose a house
like a white flower—

and what a rebellion
to leap into it
and hold on,
connecting everything,

the past to the future—
which is of course the miracle—
which is the only argument there is
against the sea

~Mary Oliver  -  House of Light