Poem: Sunrise

Sunrise

by Mary Oliver

You can

die for it --

an idea,

or the world. People

 

have done so,

brilliantly,

letting

their small bodies be bound

 

to the stake,

creating

an unforgettable

fury of light. But

 

this morning,

climbing the familiar hills

in the familiar

fabric of dawn, I thought

 

of China,

and India

and Europe, and I thought

how the sun

 

blazes

for everyone just

so joyfully

as it rises

 

under the lashes

of my own eyes, and I thought

I am so many!

What is my name?

 

What is the name

of the deep breath I would take

over and over

for all of us? Call it

 

whatever you want, it is

happiness, it is another one

of the ways to enter

fire.