Give Thanks

Thanks 

-W.S. Merwin

Listen

with the night falling we are saying thank you

we are stopping on the bridges to bow for the railings

we are running out of the glass rooms

with our mouths full of food to look at the sky

and say thank you

we are standing by the water looking out

in different directions.

back from a series of hospitals back from a mugging

after funerals we are saying thank you

after the news of the dead

whether or not we knew them we are saying thank you

looking up from tables we are saying thank you

in a culture up to its chin in shame

living in the stench it has chosen we are saying thank you

over telephones we are saying thank you

in doorways and in the backs of cars and in elevators

remembering wars and the police at the back door

and the beatings on stairs we are saying thank you

in the banks that use us we are saying thank you

with the crooks in office with the rich and fashionable

unchanged we go on saying thank you thank you

with the animals dying around us

our lost feelings we are saying thank you

with the forests falling faster than the minutes

of our lives we are saying thank you

with the words going out like cells of a brain

with the cities growing over us like the earth

we are saying thank you faster and faster

with nobody listening we are saying thank you

we are saying thank you and waving

dark though it is


The spirit of this poem reminds me of the first Thanksgiving.  The Pilgrims risked everything to make a new life.  This is what they got in return:  exposure, starvation, sickness, and mother, sister, father, and son dead.  And the Native Americans?  They opened their arms in friendship, and all too quickly they saw forests falling faster than the minutes and cities growing over them like the earth. This does not negate the beauty of the choices made by both peoples, but was it worth the suffering?  Are we to face the injustice of the world and our own failings with a nod of acceptance and a simple thanks? There are only a limited number of responses available to us, and perhaps that is how it should be.   

"Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting-

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things."

(from "Wild Geese" by Mary Oliver)

Mary Oliver's poem speaks to the resiliance of humanity, and it is through our thankfulness that we are sustained. 

What about you?  What are your thoughts as you read W.S. Merwin's words?  Do you find it a grim Thanksgiving poem or a hopeful one?  Does Oliver's poem soften your response?