In Memory of Mary Oliver, poet
Published in
1 min readJul 19, 2019
Why do we love Kryptonite when it kills?
We just do.
It doesn’t matter what your poison is.
Anything to bridge the separation from what was lost,
what we loved, from a primordial source long forgotten.
We know it’s poison yet sip from its cup
again and again.
It seems nothing pure can live here for long.
Love unloved always turns bitter.
Find me a god who can breathe on Earth,
Who can show me the door to who i once was.
For there is one, hidden among the reeds of your life.
© Simon Heathcote
