Who I am.

I write about the landscape of grief, nature, and the wisdom of fools. The author of four books, my essays, poems, and reviews have been published in over 50 journals, including in the Huffington Post and Colorado Review. I’ve won the River Teeth Nonfiction Book Award, the Chautauqua and Literal Latte’s essay prizes, and my work has been nominated for four Pushcart Prizes and named a notable by Best American Essays. My account of hiking in Yosemite to deal with my wife’s death, Mountains of Light, was published by the University of Nebraska Press. http://www.markliebenow.com.

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

Dark World


After Evelyn’s sudden death, I often go to Yosemite. At night I walk into the meadow by myself and lose myself in the stars that seemed impossibly close. Constellations drift overhead. Everyone had turned in for the night, even the animals, except for a few who want a late night snack, and I try not to think about them. The meadow is so quiet that I can hear the hoot of an owl on the other side of the valley and the footsteps of what I think is a coyote trotting by.

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4 comments:

  1. This is it exactly. Thank you for putting it into these words. Everything gets redefined as survival, doesn't it.

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  2. Yes, survival, in a community of friends that we gather, no matter how far we're separated by distance.

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