Maybe Death isn't Darkness after all.

A weekly poem and writing prompt inspired by Mary Oliver.

Dreamwork: A Year-Long Journey with Mary Oliver

In the spirit of immersing myself deeper in the practice and studying of nature poetry, I am embarking on a year-long contemplative writing journey with Mary Oliver. Each day, I will read a single Mary Oliver poem and then write a poem in response to it.

I am feeling called to share this practice with the Poetry Outdoors community, as a weekly poem and prompt offering. Every Sunday, I will share a Mary Oliver poem, one of mine I’ve written in response, along with a poetry prompt for you to write your own version in conversation with Mary.

Each week, we will gather in the comments section and share our Mary Oliver inspired poetry with each other.

Photo by Todd Steitle on Unsplash

WHITE OWL FLIES INTO AND OUT OF THE FIELD
Mary Oliver

Coming down
out of the freezing sky
with its depths of light,
like an angel, 
or a buddha with wings,
it was beautiful
and accurate,
striking the snow and whatever was there
with a force that left the imprint 
of the tips of its wings — 
five feet apart — and the grabbing 
thrust of its feet,
and the indentation of what had been running
through the white valleys 
of the snow —

and then it rose, gracefully,
and flew back to the frozen marshes,
to lurk there, 
like a little lighthouse,
in the blue shadows —
so I thought: 
maybe death 
isn't darkness, after all,
but so much light 
wrapping itself around us —
as soft as feathers —
that we are instantly weary 
of looking, and looking, and shut our eyes, 

not without amazement,
and let ourselves be carried,
as through the translucence of mica,
to the river 
that is without the least dapple or shadow —
that is nothing but light — scalding, aortal light —
in which we are washed and washed
out of our bones.

Photo by Ricky Rew on Unsplash

Angels Among Us
Ash Kilback, after Mary Oliver 

Maybe death isn’t darkness, 
after all, maybe it’s more mystical
than that, how I woke this morning 
to watch the fog rise as if it were breath
being drawn into a celestial body sitting 
above the clouds. Once it disappeared, 
every tree emerged wearing a white cloak 
of iridescent crystals like angels gathered 
in the front yard, and I thought: 

If our lives can be overwhelmed by this 
much beauty while we're here, what else
could possibly be waiting on the other
side? I am certain, angels are among us,
sharing their heavenly gifts in plain sight.  

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This Week’s Prompt: Maybe Death isn’t Darkness after all.

Write a response poem inspired by the line in Mary’s poem, “Maybe death isn’t darkness after all” — bring a memory to mind of an encounter with nature that uplifted you into a transcendent state, making you reconsider what life may be like beyond this earthly realm.

Come back to the comments on this post next Sunday, January 18th and share your poem.

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P.S. Kassi Wilson from In the Elements wrote a guide on How to Write a Nature Poem this week that serves as the wonderful companion for our weekly Mary Oliver writing prompts.

Read it here:

How To Write A Nature-Inspired Poem

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