EVERYTHING THAT WAS BROKEN

Mary Jane Oliver was an American poet who won the National Book Award and the Pulitzer Prize. Her work is inspired by nature, rather than the human world, stemming from her lifelong passion for solitary walks in the wild. It is characterized by a sincere wonderment at the impact of natural imagery, conveyed in unadorned language. In 2007, she was declared to be the country’s best-selling poet.

Everything that was broken has
forgotten its brokenness. I live
now in a sky-house, through every
window the sun. Also your presence.
Our touching, our stories. Earthy
and holy both. How can this be, but
it is. Every day has something in it
whose name is Forever.

This poem by Mary Oliver expresses a sense of profound healing and renewal. The speaker reflects on a state where all the past brokenness has been left behind, and now they reside in a sky-house, symbolizing a higher, expansive perspective. Through every window of this sky-house, they witness the sun’s presence and feel the presence of someone dear (presumably a loved one). The poem highlights the significance of connection and touch, as well as the power of personal stories. The speaker finds both earthly and sacred qualities in these connections. Despite the wonderment and disbelief, the poem emphasizes that this state of renewal and eternity is indeed present in everyday life, in the form of moments that carry a sense of foreverness.

I have read this poem like a sacred psalm hundreds of times but I experienced it so powerfully differently when I heard it READ TO ME like this; there’s an ache in the reader’s voice that makes you feel your own brokenness but not in a rough, jagged way so much as feeling the stitches on a smooth baseball that was given to you by your favorite player as a gift more than just some souvenir to be put up on Ebay someday after your passing when no one really wants what was once special to you.
A little over a year ago, I was at conference at The Gathering Place where I was scheduled to speak last on the program that day.  I was there, sitting in the back of the room listening to a speaker talk about our own grief and grieving and how it often leaves us feeling BROKEN; this poem of Mary Oliver’s came to mind as did these words right before I spoke.  I used them as a conclusion to the presentation I gave: HOLDING SPACE–WALKING EACH OTHER HOME:

PROTECTED PRESENCE

I’m Broken
and I’ve lost a lot of my pieces
I don’t exactly remember when I
Humpty-Dumptied if off the wall
No recollection of all the Kings men
and all of the horses they rode in on
But I know. . .ohhh how I know
How I’ve not been put back together again
and when you dare to
provide protective presence
and choose to hold me
It’s not so much of an Embrace
as a specific piece that never existed
You’ve brought to me
A wholeness I’ve not known
but now never want to forget
or ever want to be without
BROKEN PIECES
PLAY A SYMPHONY ALL OF THEIR OWN
LISTEN
(or better still, bring your broken piece and play along)