Reading this poem by Mary Oliver, another from her new book entitled Thirst, I think of Psalm 24:1 and the Psalmist's proclamation that "[t]he earth is the Lord's, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it. . . ." I'm unsure of the reason for the title; a prior poem was entitled "Musical Notation: 1," and it is, like this one, a reflection on what is made and the Maker. So perhaps it is the music of Creation? I don't know. But I like this simple reflection that everything is His, everything.
Musical Notation: 2
Everything is His.
The door, the door jamb.
The wood stacked near the door.
The leaves blown upon the path
that leads to the door.
The trees that are dropping their leaves
the wind that is tripping them this way and that way,
the clouds that are high above them,
the stars that are sleeping now beyond the clouds
and, simply said, all the rest.
When I open the door I am so sure
all this will be there, and it is.
I look around.
I fill my arms with firewood.
I turn and enter His house, and close His door.
When you open the door tomorrow on a world outside, you might think of this poem. You might pause and consider that He made it all, that whatever you touch is His, that your very life is His. You might then say, with the Psalmist, "what is man that you are mindful of Him, the son of man that you care for him? (Ps. 8:4)
And you may never look at doors or door jambs with indifference, but, rather, with the Architect's heart.
