oureverydayuse

Friday, January 12, 2007

A Poem by Mary Oliver


"The Summer Day" by Mary Oliver
Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean— the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention,

how to fall down into the grass,

how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed,

how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?


Oliver begins with a description of a grasshopper, moves on to question what prayer is and how she prays. She then asks the reader what are you going to do with your life. Do the thoughts connect for you? If so, explain how.

3 Comments:

At 9/12/2007 4:41 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

The term "grasshopper" is often used to describe a person who "has much to learn". I think the author is reflecting on her own life, asking herself questions about God and about life. Why am I here? What should I pray for? What is expected of me? Animals and insects are all about survival. Where is my next meal coming from? How do I avoid getting eaten? With humans, we have the survival thing down. So then what? Teach me, show me, and help me know what I am supposed to do with my life now. #412

 
At 2/04/2008 4:58 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I ask myself questions like this on occasion. I believe in GOD and that he created earth and everything in it. I have never seen him or physically heard his voice. I believe though. And beacause I believe I may say I saw him and may say I heard him talking to me as I go to sleep. I don't know why I do the things that I do. I don't know why I think the way that I think. I don't have the answers. It would be a lot easier if I did. Or would it? Do we have to know what is going to happen next. Or why it is happeneing. Isn't that the beauty of life, the unknown. Whatever it is that I do with my life, I know it is going to be what is meant for me and no one else. Love life and all it has to offer. 502

 
At 9/14/2009 11:14 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

This poem shows what I sometimes wonder. How did things come to be, why? Look at all the things in our life, in our world, that we see around us. Everything in nature is different yet it is the circle of life. Everything must be here for a reason, just as I feel everything happens for a reason. In this she discusses what is life about and what will we do with our own life. Is there a god? For many no, and for most yes. Yes I believe there is, the one who created all these living beings and creatures. I plan to live my life to the fullest. 107

 

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