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"Spring"
by Mary Oliver
Faith
by Mary Oliver
Faith
is the instructor.
We need no other.
Guess what I am,
he says in his
incomparably lovely
Young-man voice.
Because I love the world
I think of grass,
I think of leaves
and the bold sun,
I think of the rushes
In the black marshes
just coming back
from under the pure white
And now finally melting
stubs of snow.
Whatever we know or don’t know
Leads us to say:
Teacher, what do you mean?
But faith is still there, and silent.
Then he who owns
the incomparable voice
suddenly flows upward
And out of the room
and I follow,
obedient and happy.
Of course I am thinking
the Lord was once young
and will never in fact be old.
And who else could this be, who goes off
down the green path,
Carrying his sandals, and singing?
Guess what I am,
he says in his
incomparably lovely
Young-man voice.
Because I love the world
I think of grass,
I think of leaves
and the bold sun,
I think of the rushes
In the black marshes
just coming back
from under the pure white
And now finally melting
stubs of snow.
Whatever we know or don’t know
Leads us to say:
Teacher, what do you mean?
But faith is still there, and silent.
Then he who owns
the incomparable voice
suddenly flows upward
And out of the room
and I follow,
obedient and happy.
Of course I am thinking
the Lord was once young
and will never in fact be old.
And who else could this be, who goes off
down the green path,
Carrying his sandals, and singing?
Love this! I hope you had a wonderful Easter, Sue.
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