The Journey by Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice --

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do --

determined to save

the only life you could save.

~ Mary Oliver ~

Comments

[Erin]

Funny how much wider this makes me grin, having followed a voice that draws far less of a crowd than that ever so popular run away! one that took me on the journey before this one....
Thanks for bringing this to me in the Houston airport. ;)

[Kate]

and to me. Thanks.
In spite of all the times I thought I was listening - or maybe because of all those times - I'm hearing the new voice.

[Laura]

I live to serve, loves.

[Dick]

During my life, knowing what to do has usually preceded finally doing it. But, I guess, the journey is the same.

The road full of fallen branches and stones reminds me of the path to a mountaintop above the ocean, near where Oliver's influence, Edna St. Vincent Millay, was born.

Millay is remembered there, near Camden, Maine, with a small stone tower and plaque.

[Laura]

I had to smile at this, Dick. You know, it used to be that I knew what to do before doing it, too. What's been interesting though is that the most pivotal things kind of snuck up on me. I've learned to respect intuition more and more as I've gotten older and I've got a healthy respect for just how quickly life (and all the plans we made for it) can change.