26 Unforgettable Poems About Life That Will Resonate With You

Mary Oliver’s “The Summer Day” poetically nudges us to find prayer in the simple act of paying attention to the world around us, urging us to cherish our one wild and precious life. Discover more profound insights on life’s journey at InktasticMerch.

Inspirational Poems About Life

The Summer Day, by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

this grasshopper, I mean—

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

Mary Oliver gently invites us to witness the small wonders of existence, urging us to recognize that true prayer lies in mindful attention to the present moment. This poem offers a profound shift from the anxieties of obligation to the simple, profound grace of simply being, reminding us of the preciousness of each fleeting day.

How to Embody These Words

  • Dedicate at least five minutes today to observe something small and often overlooked in nature – an insect, a leaf, a cloud.
  • Gently ask yourself: “What am I truly paying attention to right now?”
  • Consider one small, intentional act of presence you can weave into your day.

Desiderata, by Max Ehrmann

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons.

Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth.

Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

This timeless prose offers a sanctuary for the soul, guiding us toward inner peace amidst life’s inevitable turbulence. It encourages a gentle authenticity, reminding us that true worth is found not in external validation or comparison, but in honoring our own path with quiet strength and an open heart.

Daily Practice

  • Choose one sentence from Desiderata to hold as a guiding principle for the day.
  • When you notice yourself comparing, gently redirect your focus to your own efforts and inner aspirations.
  • Practice speaking your truth with kindness, both to yourself and to others.

The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

This poem evokes the profound human experience of choice and its lasting impact. It invites contemplation on how our decisions, even those that seem small at the time, shape the landscape of our lives, encouraging us to embrace the uniqueness of our chosen paths with a sense of mindful acceptance.

How to Embody These Words

  • Reflect on a significant choice you’ve made. What was the “road” you chose?
  • Consider the subtle ways that choice has influenced your life’s journey.
  • Approach your next decision with awareness, acknowledging that each path holds its own unique lessons and beauty.

My Inner Life, by Robert William Service

‘Tis true my garments threadbare are,

And sorry poor I seem;

But inly I am richer far

Than any poet’s dream.

For I’ve a hidden life no one

Can ever hope to see;

A sacred sanctuary none

May share with me.

Aloof I stand from out the strife,

Within my heart a song;

By virtue of my inner life

I to myself belong.

Against man-ruling I rebel,

Yet do not fear defeat,

For to my secret citadel

I may retreat.

Oh you who have an inner life

Beyond this dismal day

With wars and evil rumours rife,

Go blessedly your way.

Your refuge hold inviolate;

Unto yourself be true,

And shield serene from sordid fate

The Real You.

This poem is a powerful affirmation of self-sufficiency and the profound richness found within one’s own spirit. It encourages us to cultivate a resilient inner world, a sanctuary that remains untouched by external chaos, and to find belonging and strength in our authentic, unshared selves.

Daily Practice

  • Carve out a few moments of solitude each day to connect with your inner landscape.
  • Engage in an activity that nourishes your soul, whether it’s reading, meditating, or simply sitting in quiet reflection.
  • Affirm to yourself: “My inner life is my sacred refuge, and I belong to myself.”

Still I Rise, by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise

Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise

I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

This powerful anthem of resilience is a testament to the unyielding spirit that can emerge from adversity. It speaks to the profound strength found in self-acceptance and the transformative power of rising above oppression, inviting us to connect with our own inner wellspring of courage and dignity.

How to Embody These Words

  • Acknowledge a past challenge you have overcome.
  • Stand tall, perhaps even dance, and consciously embody the feeling of your own inherent strength.
  • Affirm: “I am a source of my own power, and I rise.”

Life Is a Privilege, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Life is a privilege. Its youthful days

Shine with the radiance of continuous Mays.

To live, to breathe, to wonder and desire,

To feed with dreams the heart’s perpetual fire,

To thrill with virtuous passions, and to glow

With great ambitions – in one hour to know

The depths and heights of feeling – God! in truth,

How beautiful, how beautiful is youth!

Life is a privilege. Like some rare rose

The mysteries of the human mind unclose.

What marvels lie in the earth, and air, and sea!

What stores of knowledge wait our opening key!

What sunny roads of happiness lead out

Beyond the realms of indolence and doubt!

And what large pleasures smile upon and bless

The busy avenues of usefulness!

Life is a privilege. Thought the noontide fades

And shadows fall along the winding glades,

Though joy-blooms wither in the autumn air,

Yet the sweet scent of sympathy is there.

Pale sorrow leads us closer to our kind,

And in the serious hours of life we find

Depths in the souls of men which lend new worth

And majesty to this brief span of earth.

Life is a privilege. If some sad fate

Sends us alone to seek the exit gate,

If men forsake us and as shadows fall,

Still does the supreme privilege of all

Come in that reaching upward of the soul

To find the welcoming Presence at the goal,

And in the Knowledge that our feet have trod

Paths that led from, and must wind back, to God.

This poem is a heartfelt ode to the gift of existence, celebrating its beauty across all seasons of life. It reminds us that life, in its entirety—from the vibrant bloom of youth to the wisdom of later years, and even through sorrow—is an extraordinary privilege, offering continuous opportunities for growth, connection, and transcendence.

Daily Practice

  • Reflect on one aspect of life you feel grateful for today.
  • Consider how even challenging experiences have contributed to your understanding and depth.
  • Affirm: “I honor this privilege of life, in all its forms.”

The Guest House, by Rumi

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.

meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

Rumi’s profound metaphor invites us to embrace every emotional experience, no matter how challenging, as a temporary visitor in the inn of our being. This perspective fosters a deep acceptance, allowing us to witness our feelings without judgment and to find wisdom and potential for growth even in the most difficult moments.

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How to Embody These Words

  • When an uncomfortable emotion arises, mentally acknowledge it as a “visitor.”
  • Instead of resisting, try to observe it with gentle curiosity, as you would a guest.
  • Ask yourself: “What might this visitor be trying to teach me?”

Poems About Life, Love and Death

Immortality, by Clare Harner

Do not stand

By my grave, and weep.

I am not there,

I do not sleep —

I am the thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints in snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning’s hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand

By my grave, and cry —

I am not there,

I did not die.

This comforting poem dissolves the finality of death, weaving the essence of the departed into the fabric of the living world. It offers solace by reminding us that love and connection transcend physical presence, transforming grief into an awareness of enduring presence in the natural rhythms and beauties that surround us.

Daily Practice

  • When you think of a loved one who has passed, connect with a natural element that reminds you of them.
  • Allow yourself to feel their presence in the breeze, sunlight, or rain.
  • Whisper a message of love or gratitude to them, knowing it is carried on the wind.

Life, by Sarojini Naidu

Children, ye have not lived, to you it seems

Life is a lovely stalactite of dreams,

Or carnival of careless joys that leap

About your hearts like billows on the deep

In flames of amber and of amethyst.

Children, ye have not lived, ye but exist

Till some resistless hour shall rise and move

Your hearts to wake and hunger after love,

And thirst with passionate longing for the things

That burn your brows with blood-red sufferings.

Till ye have battled with great grief and fears,

And borne the conflict of dream-shattering years,

Wounded with fierce desire and worn with strife,

Children, ye have not lived: for this is life.

Naidu poignantly suggests that a life fully lived is one interwoven with deep emotional experience, encompassing both profound joy and searing sorrow. It shifts our perspective from a superficial engagement with existence to a courageous embrace of its full spectrum, where true aliveness emerges from confronting life’s challenges and embracing passionate longing.

How to Embody These Words

  • Reflect on a time you faced significant emotional challenge and how it deepened your understanding of yourself.
  • Consider what “passionate longing” calls to you, and if there’s a gentle way to honor that call.
  • Embrace the idea that vulnerability and struggle are integral to a rich, lived experience.

When I Die I Want Your Hands on My Eyes, by Pablo Neruda

When I die I want your hands on my eyes:

I want the light and the wheat of your beloved hands

to pass their freshness over me one more time

to feel the smoothness that changed my destiny.

I want you to live while I wait for you, asleep,

I want for your ears to go on hearing the wind,

for you to smell the sea that we loved together

and for you to go on walking the sand where we walked.

I want for what I love to go on living

and as for you I loved you and sang you above everything,

for that, go on flowering, flowery one,

so that you reach all that my love orders for you,

so that my shadow passes through your hair,

so that they know by this the reason for my song.

Neruda’s verses tenderly explore the enduring nature of love beyond the veil of death. This poem offers a profound perspective on letting go, not by severing ties, but by entrusting the continuation of life and love to the beloved, finding peace in their continued experience of the world.

How to Embody These Words

  • Hold the hands of a loved one, noticing their texture and the life they carry.
  • Express your love and your wish for their continued joy and experience of life.
  • Consider what you would wish for your loved ones to carry forward from your connection.

Life Is Fine, by Langston Hughes

I went down to the river,

I set down on the bank.

I tried to think but couldn’t,

So I jumped in and sank.

I came up once and hollered!

I came up twice and cried!

If that water hadn’t a-been so cold

I might’ve sunk and died.

But it was Cold in that water! It was cold!

I took the elevator

Sixteen floors above the ground.

I thought about my baby

And thought I would jump down.

I stood there and I hollered!

I stood there and I cried!

If it hadn’t a-been so high

I might’ve jumped and died.

But it was High up there! It was high!

So since I’m still here livin’,

I guess I will live on.

I could’ve died for love–

But for livin’ I was born

Though you may hear me holler,

And you may see me cry–

I’ll be dogged, sweet baby,

If you gonna see me die.

Life is fine! Fine as wine! Life is fine!

Hughes’ poem is a raw and resilient declaration of life’s inherent value, even in the face of profound despair. Through vivid imagery of near-death experiences, he ultimately lands on a powerful affirmation of survival and the simple, unyielding beauty of continuing to live, transforming struggle into a defiant celebration.

How to Embody These Words

  • Acknowledge moments when you’ve felt overwhelmed, even if you didn’t act on them.
  • Bring to mind a simple pleasure that grounded you or brought you back to the present.
  • Consciously affirm, “Life is fine,” even if it’s just a whisper to yourself, embracing the resilience within.

Sonnet 29, by William Shakespeare

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,

Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state,

(Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;

For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

This sonnet beautifully illustrates how the memory of profound love can act as an anchor and a catalyst for inner transformation. It reveals that even in moments of deep self-doubt and despair, the recollection of a cherished connection can elevate the spirit, bestowing a wealth that surpasses any material or social standing.

Daily Practice

  • Recall a person or experience that brings you unconditional love and acceptance.
  • Allow the feeling of that love to wash over you, noticing how it shifts your internal state.
  • Journal about the “wealth” this love brings to your life, beyond material possessions.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound’s the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

This poem captures the profound allure of stillness and solitude, a quiet temptation to linger in beauty. Yet, it also speaks to the enduring pull of our responsibilities and commitments, reminding us that while moments of pause are essential, life’s journey requires us to honor our obligations and continue forward.

How to Embody These Words

  • Find a moment of quiet observation today, perhaps looking out a window or sitting in a peaceful spot.
  • Acknowledge any inner longing to “stop” and rest, and then gently reconnect with a task or commitment you need to attend to.
  • Carry the imagery of the “lovely, dark and deep” woods as a reminder of the restorative power of stillness, even when you must move on.

Death and Life, by Robert William Service

Twas in the grave-yard’s gruesome gloom

That May and I were mated;

We sneaked inside and on a tomb

Our love was consummated.

It’s quite all right, no doubt we’ll wed,

Our sin will go unchidden…

Ah! sweeter than the nuptial bed

Are ecstasies forbidden.

And as I held my sweetheart close,

And she was softly sighing,

I could not help but think of those

In peace below us lying.

Poor folks! No disrespect we meant,

And beg you’ll be forgiving;

We hopes the dead will not resent

The rapture of the living.

And when in death I, too, shall lie,

And lost to those who love me,

I wish two sweethearts roving by

Will plight their troth above me.

Oh do not think that I will grieve

To hear the vows they’re voicing,

And if their love new life conceive,

‘Tis I will be rejoicing.

Service playfully juxtaposes the solemnity of death with the vibrant pulse of life and love. This poem suggests that the continuity of life and the blossoming of new love can be a source of joy even for those who have passed, offering a perspective where death is not an end but a transition that allows for the ongoing celebration of existence.

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How to Embody These Words

  • Consider the cycle of life and how new beginnings often emerge from endings.
  • Reflect on the enduring energy of love and connection that can transcend physical presence.
  • Find a way to celebrate the vibrant life that continues around you, perhaps by sharing a moment of joy with someone you love.

The Mower, by Philip Larkin

The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found

A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,

Killed. It had been in the long grass.

I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.

Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world

Unmendably. Burial was no help:

Next morning I got up and it did not.

The first day after a death, the new absence

Is always the same; we should be careful

Of each other, we should be kind

While there is still time.

Larkin’s stark encounter with a small, accidental death serves as a poignant reminder of life’s fragility and the profound impact of our actions, however unintentional. This poem gently urges us toward a heightened awareness of our interconnectedness and a compassionate approach to one another, recognizing the preciousness of the present moment.

Daily Practice

  • Take a moment to acknowledge the quiet lives that exist around you, seen and unseen.
  • Offer a small act of kindness to someone today, without expectation.
  • Reflect on the impact of your presence and actions, however subtle, on the world and those within it.

Later life, by Christina Georgina Rossetti

Something this foggy day, a something which

Is neither of this fog nor of today,

Has set me dreaming of the winds that play

Past certain cliffs, along one certain beach,

And turn the topmost edge of waves to spray:

Ah pleasant pebbly strand so far away,

So out of reach while quite within my reach,

As out of reach as India or Cathay!

I am sick of where I am and where I am not,

I am sick of foresight and of memory,

I am sick of all I have and all I see,

I am sick of self, and there is nothing new;

Oh weary impatient patience of my lot!

Thus with myself: how fares it, Friends, with you?

Rossetti captures a universal feeling of ennui and longing for something more, a weariness with the present that yearns for distant shores or perhaps a different state of being. This poem invites empathy, acknowledging the shared human experience of feeling confined by circumstance and seeking solace in the dream of elsewhere, while also gently turning to community for shared understanding.

How to Embody These Words

  • Allow yourself to dream of a place or a feeling that brings you a sense of peace or wonder.
  • Acknowledge any feelings of dissatisfaction without judgment, recognizing them as part of the human experience.
  • Connect with a friend or loved one and share a moment of honest reflection about your inner state.

Short Poems About Life

Risk, by Anaïs Nin

And then the day came,

when the risk

to remain tight

in a bud

was more painful

than the risk

it took

to blossom.

Nin’s powerful metaphor illuminates the courage required for personal growth. It speaks to the moment when the discomfort of stagnation outweighs the fear of change, urging us to embrace vulnerability and step into our fullest potential, much like a flower unfurling its petals.

How to Embody These Words

  • Identify an area in your life where you feel “tight in a bud,” hesitant to grow or change.
  • Acknowledge the pain or discomfort of staying where you are.
  • Take one small, brave step towards “blossoming” in that area, no matter how minor.

The Dust of Snow, by Robert Frost

The way a crow

Shook down on me

The dust of snow

From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart

A change of mood

And saved some part

Of a day I had rued.

This brief encounter with nature demonstrates how even the smallest, most unexpected events can shift our perspective and redeem a difficult day. It highlights the subtle yet profound power of the natural world to interrupt negative thought patterns and infuse our experience with a renewed sense of peace and possibility.

Daily Practice

  • Seek out a small interaction with nature today, even if it’s just noticing a bird or a tree.
  • Pay attention to any subtle shift in your mood or outlook that arises from this connection.
  • Consciously carry that lighter feeling with you for the rest of the day.

I Took My Power in My Hand, by Emily Dickinson

I took my Power in my Hand —

And went against the World —

‘Twas not so much as David — had —

But I — was twice as bold —

I aimed by Pebble — but Myself

Was all the one that fell —

Was it Goliath — was too large —

Or was myself — too small?

Dickinson’s introspective lines explore the nature of courage and self-perception in the face of life’s challenges. This poem invites us to examine our inner strength and the subjective nature of our perceived limitations, questioning whether our struggles stem from external obstacles or our own internal narratives.

How to Embody These Words

  • Reflect on a time you felt you “went against the world” in some way, standing up for yourself or your beliefs.
  • Consider what inner resources you drew upon during that experience.
  • Gently explore the thought: “Was the challenge truly too great, or was my own self-doubt the greater hurdle?”

Life, by Sir Walter Raleigh

What is our life? A play of passion,

Our mirth the music of division,

Our mother’s wombs the tiring-houses be,

Where we are dressed for life’s short comedy.

Heaven the judicious sharp spectator is,

That sits and marks still who doth act amiss.

Our graves that hide us from the setting sun

Are like drawn curtains when the play is done.

Thus march we, playing, to our latest rest,

Only we die in earnest, that’s no jest.

Raleigh presents a theatrical metaphor for human existence, viewing life as a performance with a divine audience. This perspective encourages us to consider our actions and intentions, recognizing that while life may feel like a fleeting drama, our impact and the lessons learned are deeply significant, leading to a final, earnest rest.

How to Embody These Words

  • Imagine you are an actor preparing for a role. What qualities would you bring to your performance of “life”?
  • Consider the “spectator” – what values or principles guide your actions?
  • Reflect on how you wish to “act” in the remaining scenes of your life’s play.

Invisible Fish, by Joy Harjo

Invisible fish swim this ghost ocean now described by waves of sand, by water-worn rock. Soon the fish will learn to walk. Then humans will come ashore and paint dreams on the dying stone. Then later, much later, the ocean floor will be punctuated by Chevy trucks, carrying the dreamers’ decendants, who are going to the store.

Harjo’s evocative imagery paints a surreal landscape where the unseen becomes tangible and the future unfolds in unexpected ways. This poem invites us to contemplate the deep, unseen currents of existence and the cyclical nature of human endeavors, suggesting a connection between ancient dreams and the mundane realities of modern life.

How to Embody These Words

  • Take a moment to sense the “invisible fish” – the underlying energies, unspoken connections, or hidden potentials in your environment.
  • Imagine a future where current realities have transformed in surprising ways.
  • Find a moment to connect with the “dreamers” within you, perhaps through creative expression or quiet contemplation.

A Word To Husbands, by Ogden Nash

To keep your marriage brimming

With love in the loving cup,

Whenever you’re wrong, admit it;

Whenever you’re right, shut up.

Nash offers a humorous yet insightful piece of advice for maintaining harmony in relationships. This simple directive encourages humility and a willingness to prioritize peace over the need to be right, suggesting that open acknowledgment of fault and quiet contentment when correct are keys to a flourishing partnership.

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Daily Practice

  • In a moment of minor disagreement, practice admitting you might be wrong, even if you feel you are right.
  • When you feel you are undeniably correct, try the practice of gentle silence and observing the outcome.
  • Reflect on how these small shifts might impact the ease and warmth of your interactions.

Each Life Converges To Some Centre, by Emily Dickinson

Each life converges to some centre

Expressed or still;

Exists in every human nature

A goal,

Admitted scarcely to itself, it may be,

Too fair

For credibility’s temerity

To dare.

Adored with caution, as a brittle heaven,

To reach

Were hopeless as the rainbow’s raiment

To touch,

Yet persevered toward, surer for the distance;

How high

Unto the saints’ slow diligence

The sky!

Ungained, it may be, by a life’s low venture,

But then,

Eternity enables the endeavoring

Again.

Dickinson suggests that every life is drawn towards an inner core, a deeply held aspiration that may be too sacred or elusive to fully articulate. This poem offers a gentle reassurance that even if our ultimate goals remain unreached in this lifetime, the pursuit itself holds profound meaning, and the journey of endeavoring continues beyond our earthly bounds.

How to Embody These Words

  • Gently explore what your life’s “centre” might be, acknowledging any quiet, deeply held desires.
  • Consider the “brittle heaven” of this aspiration – how can you honor it with care and gentle persistence?
  • Affirm that the journey towards this centre, regardless of arrival, is a sacred part of your human experience.

The Peace of Wild Things, by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Berry’s poem offers a profound sanctuary, guiding us toward the solace found in nature when overwhelmed by worldly anxieties. It invites us to shed the burden of future worries by immersing ourselves in the present, unburdened existence of the wild, finding a deep and freeing peace in the simple grace of the natural world.

How to Embody These Words

  • When feeling anxious about the future, step outside and find a natural element to observe – a tree, a bird, a patch of sky.
  • Allow yourself to simply be present with it, without trying to “fix” or “solve” anything.
  • Breathe deeply and feel the grounding presence of the earth beneath you, allowing a sense of peace to wash over you.

Full Life, by D. H. Lawrence

A man can’t fully live unless he dies and ceases to care,

ceases to care.

Lawrence provocatively suggests that true aliveness can emerge from a state of detachment, from a profound letting go of worldly concerns. This perspective invites us to explore the possibility that by releasing the grip of constant care and striving, we might open ourselves to a more complete and vibrant experience of being.

How to Embody These Words

  • Identify one thing you are currently caring for with intense effort or worry.
  • Practice a brief period of “non-caring” – not by neglecting responsibility, but by mentally releasing the emotional grip of the outcome.
  • Notice if this brief release creates any space for a different kind of presence or awareness.

Dreams, by Langston Hughes

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

Hughes’ simple yet powerful plea emphasizes the vital importance of dreams and aspirations in sustaining a vibrant life. He uses poignant metaphors to illustrate how the loss of our dreams can lead to a profound sense of stagnation and inability to soar, urging us to cherish and protect these inner visions.

Daily Practice

  • Take a moment to reconnect with a cherished dream or aspiration.
  • Write down why this dream is important to you and what it represents.
  • Commit to one small action today that moves you, even slightly, closer to that dream.

We hope these poems have inspired you to reflect on the beautiful tapestry of life; for more insightful reflections and inspiring reads, be sure to explore our comprehensive Blog.

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