I read this poem several times. It brings to life the hidden reciprocity of life. Humans take for granted the way living happens and all phenomena are co-dependent. I read a bit of Alphonso Lingis today and he pointed out life is contingent upon relationships enveloped in reciprocity placing us in vulnerable spaces in this world we cohabit with all phenomena.
Maryiln McEntyre‘s poem reminds me of the vulnerability we encounter in life without realizing it. Life is, at once and paradoxically, strong and precarious. We cannot own something we hold in common with another and others. Humans encounter life as a covenant when we accept both its strength and fragility.
If you forget what axons do,
or how a virus invades a cell,
remember this—
that light becomes food.
That the seasons rhyme,
a different word each time
turning soil into living song.
That all things work together.
Even death. Even decay.
That this is the way
of the world we got: what is given
grows by grace and care
and knows what it needs.
That life is strong, and precarious,
full of devices and desires.
That what we hold in common
may not be owned. Control
is costly. Close attention
is the reverence due
whatever lives and moves,
mutant and quick and clever.
That our neighbors—
the plankton, the white pine,
the busy nematodes–
serve us best
in reciprocal gratitude:
what they receive, they give.
The way the heart accepts
what the vein delivers and sends it on,
again. Again.
ivonprefontaine
Teacher as Transformer 