THE NIGHT TRAVELER
Passing by, he could be anybody:
A thief, a tradesman, a doctor
On his way to a worried house.
But when he stops at your gate,
Under the room where you lie half-asleep,
You know it is not just anyone—
It is the Night Traveler.
You lean your arms on the sill
And stare down. But all you can see
Are bits of wilderness attached to him—
Twigs, loam and leaves,
Vines and blossoms. Among these
You feel his eyes, and his hands
Lifting something in the air.
He has a gift for you, but it has no name.
It is windy and woolly.
He holds it in the moonlight, and it sings
Like a newborn beast,
Like a child at Christmas,
Like your own heart as it tumbles
In love’s green bed.
You take it, and he is gone.
All night—and all your life, if you are willing—
It will nuzzle your face, cold-nosed,
Like a small white wolf;
It will curl in your palm
Like a hard blue stone;
It will liquefy into a cold pool
Which, when you dive into it,
Will hold you like a mossy jaw.
A bath of light. An answer.
—
credits: poem from Twelve Moons, 1979 by Mary Oliver, painting – google images
It only takes one verse to see why she won the Pulitzer for her poetry. Great poem to share, Beth!
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yes, i agree and it speaks to so many
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what a magic poem, Beth: absolutely beautiful and haunting but in a good way 🙂
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yes, i agree. it speaks to the individual arrival of an answer we seek, in it’s own time and own way, often sneaking in at night when we least expect it
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I thought for a moment that you had written it and I said, Wow! then I saw Mary Oliver had written it and I still said Wow!
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– I can only dream, but thanks for thinking that for a moment even )
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Oh! I should have known that could be no one else but dear, sweet Mary Oliver. She certainly has a way with words that speak beyond any words… 💞
Thank you for this… I hadn’t come across this one before!
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she is one of my fav poets and i love what she had to say here
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What a beautiful poem! Thanks for sharing Beth.
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it’s one of my favorites and so positive
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It’s really great
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Beautiful!
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I hate confessing how ‘unwellread’ I am. 😦
But it is never too late to discover/find new poets to read and enjoy.
Some poems are meant to be read over and over again. One may never grasp the true meaning a poet intends. But if a poem brings some meaning to your own self, it is worth the keeping.
I liked her “Wild Geese”.
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This puts an entirely different spin on something that happened when I was a young teen. I was working at a family owned fast food store. It was late. Cold. Dark. An older gentleman comes in and sits down. He literally has sticks, every green branches and leaves tied to his old coat. He did not have the traditional shape of ‘man’ because of all that he had tied to himself and all that he carried under and upon that coat. All these years I saw him as an old drifter, I remember him fondly. I hope I treated him well (as I remember him I don’t recall me in the moment). I will still remember him fondly, but now, maybe he was one of these night travelers. He did give me a gift….unopened until I was an adult and would think about him. Surely he is gone now. But not what he left upon me that night.
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Oh, that is so amazing and lucky
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That was lovely! Mysterious and mystical…
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As she often is –
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Awed! ( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡
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Thank you for introducing me to this poem, Beth! Fantastic.
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It’s a powerful one
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Wow, so much to ponder in this detailed, vivid imagery. Thank you for sharing this thought-provoking poem.
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In reading about it, the explanation was that we are sometimes delivered answers when and how and by who we are not expecting, often at night, and considered a gift
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Mary’s poem took my breath away. Great way to wake up. Thank you.
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Glad you enjoyed it
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wow – she does have a way with words…
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Powerful
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Really lovely.
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i loved this and it was the first time i have seen it
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Nice post
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thank you
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Spellbinding.
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Yes.
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Amazing poem.
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lovely poem. thanks for sharing. happy holidays!
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my pleasure and to you –
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Oh, Mary Oliver, a genius. I love this poem, Beth.
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she just is –
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New to blogging. Just recently discovered wtitting makes me happy and it’s one of my very few coping skills. I’m just a single momma struggling to win the battle if addiction and learning to put my domestic violence victim history to use help others who think they can’t get out, and proving myself
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merry Christmas
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Reblogged this on johncoyote and commented:
Amazing poetry shared.
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ty John
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Beautiful dear Beth. A amazing poem.
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she is an amazing writer
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