Goodbye, Mary Oliver

When Death Comes by Mary Oliver

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.


The most wonderful poet Mary Oliver has passed away, and my heart is broken. Always curious and brimming with passion for life and all it had to offer, she embraced the beauty of being alive better than most and found comfort in poetry. Her words have saved me many a time, and will continue to do so till my time on Earth ends.

Thank you for the beauty, Mary. May you find a path in the woods in heaven to wander, and write poems all day long. You shall be dearly missed. :(

Do make time to listen to her interview on On Being and read her poems here.