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I Worried

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 gave it up. And took my old body

and went out into the morning,

and sang.


-Mary Oliver

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