In Blackwater Woods

I've been (and still am) with a dear friend, her family, and her band of angel friends for the past few days. It's not my story to tell, other than this: I've seen us - fragile, strong, imperfect humanity - at our most real and best.

Here is a poem that means a lot to me.

By Mary Oliver

In Blackwater Woods, excerpt

To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.