WS Merwin, Contemplative Poet

 

Place
 

On the last day of the world I would want to plant a tree
what for not the fruit
the tree that bears the fruit is not the one that was planted
I want the tree that stands in the earth for the first time
with the sun already going down
and the water touching its roots
in the earth full of the dead and the clouds passing
one by one over its leaves
  
W.S. Merwin, from his book The Rain in the Trees

In January the celebrated American poet, Mary Oliver, died.  She was revered for her ability to invite us into a different way of paying attention in the natural world. Now it is W.S. Merwin who has died, perhaps less known, but also deeply respected. As with Oliver he was a Pulitzer Prize winner, along with many other literary awards. 

Merwin began studying Buddhism in the 1970's and there is spiritual quality to his work which I appreciate. While Merwin was born in New York City he eventually moved to Hawaii where he and his wife began planting trees on a desolate property he purchased there. He planted a tree each day, often from threatened species The 2,700 trees and an array of other flora became a lush palm forest. Eventually this property became the  Merwin Conservancy with the goal of maintaining the house and forest as “a place of stillness and reflection for retreat, study, and contemplation, that will serve to inspire innovation in the arts and sciences.”

 

 Yesterday A. Hope Jahren offered a thoughtful tribute to Merwin in the New York Times called The Poet Who Planted Trees which concludes with these poetic thoughts:

 Mr. Merwin died at home, in his bungalow, surrounded by green. He was the tree in the middle of the forest. Not the tallest tree, or the one with the most leaves, but the tree in the middle — the one that got there first. The one that funneled rain and churned soil for those who came after. The one who returns to the ground, and nourishes us on what he leaves behind.

Rest in peace.



For the Anniversary of My Death

Every year without knowing it I have passed the day
When the last fires will wave to me
And the silence will set out
Tireless traveler
Like the beam of a lightless star

Then I will no longer
Find myself in life as in a strange garment
Surprised at the earth
And the love of one woman
And the shamelessness of men
As today writing after three days of rain
Hearing the wren sing and the falling cease
And bowing not knowing to what

W.S. Merwin from his book The Second Four Books of Poems 

 

W.S. Merwin in a 2009 photograph in his study at is home on Maui, 

that he only wanted published after his death. 

Credit Tom Sewell