Mary Oliver: The Rabbit
The Rabbit
Scatterghost,
it can’t float away.
And the rain, everybody’s brother,
won’t help. And the wind all these days
flying like ten crazy sisters everywhere
can’t seem to do a thing. No one but me,
and my hands like fire,
to lift him to a last burrow. I wait
days, while the body opens and begins
to boil. I remember
the leaping in the moonlight, and can’t touch it,
wanting it miraculously to heal
and spring up
joyful. But finally
I do. And the day after I’ve shoveled
the earth over, in a field nearby
I find a small bird’s nest lined pale
and silvery and the chicks—
are you listening, death?—warm in the rabbit’s fur.
Discussion Questions
How do you feel reading the beginning of The Rabbit (Lines 1-8)? How do you understand the relationship between the narrator and nature here?
Turning to the middle of the poem (Lines 9-14): How do you relate to this portion of the poem? When have you felt like the narrator, in healthcare or otherwise?
How do you interpret the final stanza of the poem (Lines 15-19)? Does it bring you closure? A sense of deepened mystery? Hope?
Reflections from #MedHumChat
“I love the word scatterghost. It sounds light and ethereal, but it's obvious from the first few lines that it sits heavily on the author's soul. We describe death to be a release, but for those left mourning it can be such a weight.”—@Ndouthit
“Dealing with death and mortality feels like that to me sometimes. Powerless in the face of nature, which can feel callous in the face of suffering. Leading a resuscitation in the ED after an hour of EMS coding in the field feels like that. I need to call it” —@ShannonOMac
“Life to death to life. I get the sense that the rabbit's story is not over. Isn't that how we cope with the death of a loved one? We carry forward the stories and bits of them we need to keep going.” —@jhanemd
“For those who were well who become sick, the memory of health can be torturous. It is a blissful state impossible to re-enact, just as it is not possible to bring the rabbit back to life to leap in the moonlight. Sick bodies boil, with pain and emotion and memory.” —@artofstriving
“I see shoveling as the process of mourning, of bereavement, & of moving on. I see the birds nest being about re-birth, resisting the notion that death is final—that people live on: the stories of 'those we carry' can live on in us & through their impact others” —@LanceShaver
“I found the entire poem, not just the last stanza, powerfully hopeful. Life goes on, despite the inevitability of death; the circle continues, though the souls within each cycle vary. To me it spoke of how rituals and the process of bereavement help us move on.” —@ReneeCassidyMD
About this #MedHumChat
“The Rabbit” was paired with “Bone,” another poem by Mary Oliver for a #MedHumChat discussion on February 6, 2019 exploring Nature, Death, & the Soul in the Poetry of Mary Oliver.
The pieces for this chat, along with the discussion questions, were selected by Colleen Farrell.
About the Author
Mary Oliver (1935-2019) was an American poet, winner of a National Book Award and a Pulitzer Prize. Her poetry is known for its imagery and celebration of the natural world, a major theme being the intersection of the human and natural worlds. You can learn more about her here.