Sunday, January 10, 2016

Poetry Sunday: I Worried

Here's one for all the worriers of the world, among whom I count myself. We are the ones who always fear the worst and are first to blame themselves when things go wrong. Maybe in 2016 we could all just stop worrying and, like the poet, take our old bodies out in the morning and sing. 

I Worried

by Mary Oliver

I worried a lot.  Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up.  And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.

8 comments:

  1. Excellent poem. I have been trying to be conscious of the worry impulse. I suffer from it as well. I have been reading the Tao Te Ching and it has helped me. "Have faith in the way things are" it told me recently. I think I should read Mary Oliver too.

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    1. The Tao Te Ching is a very helpful resource. I have referred to it myself at times over the years. From what I know of her poetry, Mary Oliver seems to write in a similar positive vein.

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  2. I like that poem. So illustrating of what being a worrier entails.

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  3. Enjoyed this thank you for sharing

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  4. Aging does seem to fuel the worry and anxiety attacks. I can't understand at my age what my MIL thought about when she was 102. I guess you just have to let go and enjoy the ride, but since Jesus rose from the dead and promises me a new eternal body at the resurrection, I can only praise Him.

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    1. I don't think it's a matter of aging, at least with me. It's something I've been prey to for most of my life, but I am learning to let go and sing my song like nobody's listening. Because, probably, nobody is.

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