Holds Upon Happiness

Linda Pastan was the poet laureate of Maryland from 1991-1995. Her poems deal with marriage, family, and grief. Today’s poem is sad but I stopped and read it through twice so it deserves a spot on “Poem for a Thursday.” It is more onerousthan the rites of beautyor housework, harder than love.But you expect it of me casually,the way you expect the sunto come up, not in spite of rainor clouds but because of them.And so I smile, as if my own fidelityto sadness were a hidden vice—that downward tug on my mouth,my old suspicion that healthand love are brief irrelevancies,no more than laughter in the warm darkstrangled at dawn.Happiness.…

It’s been a while since I have featured a Mary Oliver poem and we all know she is one of my favorite poets. Today’s poem makes me think of my grandmother who definitely was someone who grabbed life with both hands well into old age. I hope I can be that kind of old lady. Also, my grandmother loved Cape Cod just as Mary Oliver did. I wish I was twenty and in love with lifeand still full of beans.Onward, old legs!There are the long, pale dunes; on the other sidethe roses are blooming and finding their laborno adversity to the spirit. Upward, old legs! There are the roses and…

John O’Donohue was an Irish poet, philospher, and author. He was also a Catholic priest for a number of years. His writing is credited with helping to popularize Celtic spirituality. O’Donohue was also very involved with environmental activism. He died when he was fifty-two. Now you endeavorto gather yourselfAnd withdraw in slowAnimal woundednessFrom love turned sour and ungentle.When we love, the depth in usThrusts itself forward untilThe empty space betweenBecomes gradually wovenInto an embrace where longingCan close its weary eyes.Love can seldom end clean;For all the tissue is tornAnd each lover turned strangerIs dropped into a ruin of distanceWhere emptiness is young and fierce.Time becomes strange and slipshod;It mixes memories…