As I read the Saturday morning papers

A friend gave me a copy of Parabola, a fabulous quarterly magazine that embodies a spiritual focus. In it was this new poem by the extraordinary and radiant poet American poet, Mary Oliver

The Morning Paper

Read one newspaper daily (the morning edition
is the best
for by the evening you know that you at least
have lived through another day)
and let the disasters, the unbelievable
yet approved decisions
soak in.

I don’t need to name countries,
ours among them.

What keeps us from falling down, our faces
to the ground; ashamed, ashamed?

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