Long back, while presenting a copy of “Devotions,” a friend based in New York wrote in a note that Mary Oliver (1935 – 2019) is the only modern poet whose poetry books are bestsellers.

I was surprised because poetry books are not sold much anywhere in the world.

But my friend was right. In 2007, she was named the best-selling poet in the United States. 

Mary Oliver found inspiration for her work in nature and had a lifelong habit of solitary walks in the wild. She received the Pulitzer Prize in 1984 and the National Book Award in 1992. 

Often compared to Emily Dickinson, Oliver had a fondness for solitude and inner reflection. Her poetry blends dark introspection with moments of joyful release. 

Oliver is recognized for her clear language and relatable themes, which propel her readers to examine a world they had previously found almost untouched.

Today, I reread her poem “I Worried” and wanted to share it—

Read on –

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not, how shall
I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?

Finally, I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And I gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.