Poetry in Motion

When all else fails, I write.  Writing helps me make my brain slow down.  It's similar to cleaning up a cluttered space.  You want to organize everything, so you can find it and use it.  My brain gets "spinning" so fast, and I have to stop it.  I write.  Then, everything is in one place and organized.  I can go back later and find everything I need.  Organized space.  

*April 16, 2013: Life changed forever.  I experienced a traumatic loss.  The loss is deep and ripples throughout my marriage and my closest friendships.  I lost my fierce and loyal friend, Lee.  That's really  all I can say about that day for now.

I deal with loss with writing.  Specifically, I deal with loss with poetry.  My sister reintroduced me to Mary Oliver, who happens to be one of my favorite poets.  Her piece titled Wild Geese has always been one of my favorites.  The day I lost Lee I found myself reciting this over and over in my head.  I found myself wanting to read it.  I found myself just wanting to physically have the poem with me.  For readers who have never read the poem, here you go.

Wild Geese - Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

My world has been forever changed in so many ways.  I've also had to painfully watch my husband and two of my most cherished friends' worlds change.  Throughout this tragedy, I have lost perspective on who Lee really was.  This poem always brought me back and gave me perspective.  We all have our despair.  There is no set way to deal with it.  The world keeps moving.  If you stop and take notice, your world has kept moving.  Moving doesn't mean that the memories go away.  I decided to make my favorite poem have motion.

My favorite poem in motion

Meet my wild goose.  Yes, it's permanent.  My tattoo reminds me that tragedy has touched us all.  Yes, your world may forever be changed, but your world keeps moving.  There are so many things to enjoy, discover, and explore.  Lee would want me to find my way to keep doing these things.  He would want me to help those he loved keep moving.  My wild goose keeps me on track.  My wild goose keeps me Marching Fourth.  What authors or pieces have kept you Marching Fourth?  

*My hope is to write about Lee in the future.  Those that love him and miss him just aren't ready to explore the loss yet.  We know you are with us, Lee.  We love you.