ONE QUESTION
LEADS TO ANOTHER
SOME QUESTIONS YOU MIGHT ASK
Is the soul solid, like iron?
Or is it tender and breakable, like
the wings of a moth in the beak of an owl?
Who has it, and who doesn't?
I keep looking around me.
The face of the moose is as sad
as the face of Jesus.
The swan opens her white wings slowly.
In the fall, the black bear carries leaves
into the darkness.
One question leads to another.
Does it have shape? Like an iceberg?
Like the eye of a hummingbird?
Does it have one lung, like the snake
and the scallop?
Why should I have it, and not the anteater
who loves her children?
Why should I have it, and not the camel?
Come to think of it, what about the maple trees?
What about the blue iris?
What about all the little stones, sitting
alone in the moonlight?
What about roses, and lemons,
and their shining leaves?
What about the grass?
© Mary Oliver
New and Selected Poems,
Volume One, page 65
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