Tuesday February 11
I have not posted a poem by Mary Oliver recently. “Making the House Ready for the Lord” emerges from the depths of winter. If I use my imagination and take her images seriously, it makes my toes curl a little; maybe especially the squirrel. “It’s cold outside,” says the poet, “How deep might the capacity for welcome run? Whose house is it anyway?”
Winter won’t last forever. Have a blest day.
john sj
Making the House Ready for the Lord
Dear Lord, I have swept and I have washed but
still nothing is as shining as it should be
for you. Under the sink, for example, is an
uproar of mice – it is the season of their
many children. What shall I do? And under
the eaves
and through the walls the squirrels
have gnawed their ragged entrances – but it is
the season
when they need shelter, so what shall I do?
And the raccoon limps into the kitchen and
opens the cupboard
while the dog snores, the cat hugs the pillow;
what shall I do? Beautiful is the new snow falling
in the yard and the fox who is staring boldly
up the path to the door. And still I believe
you will
come, Lord: you will, when I speak to the fox,
the sparrow, the lost dog, the shivering
sea-goose, know
that really I am speaking to you whenever I say,
as I do all morning and afternoon: Come in,
Come in.
Mary Oliver