White Eyes.

The emotion of the poem "White-Eyes" by Mary Oliver was satiated with mystery and grace. I felt as if I were swept into a white cyclone wonder while I read each line. Oliver uses her words metaphorically to describe her environment in which she finds tremendous wonder, in cruelty and beauty. She begins the poem by describing an unknown bird, that is sensually and visually compelling to the viewer, which in this case may be her. It is not only powerful to the viewer, however, as she describes it diving through the arms of trees, manipulating their movement, as well as a secretive cloud-whisperer. The poem climaxes as she begins to describe the 'idea' of the bird unfurling from under its wings. We may never know what the idea is, however, it is forever held in the secrets of nature. I enjoy this seductive mystery, and it seems to lure the artist as well as the reader further into the quest of discovery.
She writes on. Whatever this bird may be, the cool winter wind, unseen energy, thought, secrets, moonlight; seems completely available to conceptually grasp but is still an unknown godly source nonetheless. We do not know its origins or its death, if there is any, however Oliver does not seem to worried about these subjects. She is caught in the dumbfounded trance of the grace her surroundings portray. In her writing she is able to give the 'bird' the advantage and sees it as being the chief influencing force, being able to transform the other forces as well as transform itself. This just emphasizes, as I've noticed by reading the narrative journal writing of Annie Dillard in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, that the world is as completely what we perceive. Dillard exercises detailing beauty throughout her book, such as on page 141, "The texture of the world, its filigree and scrollwork, means there is the possibility for beauty here, a beauty inexhaustible in its complexity, which opens to my knock, which answers in me a call I do not remember calling, and which trains me to the wild and extravagant nature of the spirit I seek." Beauty is found in us, and singularly in us. Beauty waves differently through each being's mind, but 'nature' does not create to be beautiful. The inner 'knock' that she mentions, I see, is the chemistry of her senses crashing in her head, formulating the feeling of something pleasurable. However, the pleasure came without her asking. Oliver exemplifies the detail of this quote in her poem when she is struck by the flame of beauty and she opens the door warmly, nourishing it as it curls up in her body. They both also speak of a certain 'spirit' or 'bird' that flies in, and although it is not able to be captured by us physically or even spiritually, we can conjure the emotion that satisfies the presence of this spirit.