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What, me worry?

October 16, 2019

(Thank you to Harvey Kurtzman and Al Feldstein for the above title. If you recognize either of those names, or their Mad Magazine then you, like me, are old!)

I collect poetry. When I find a poem I like I add it to my collection. I go to that file from time to time and read those poems and along with the joy of reading poems I like, reading them reminds me of why I like poetry and why poets are interesting people. Sometimes I think I might write a poem that might make me think I’m an interesting person.

Here’s a poem I just found and that I added to my collection.

I Worried
by Mary Oliver

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.



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