You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
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 thelandscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and therivers.
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.
“Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver
from Dream Work
published by Atlantic Monthly Press
© Mary Oliver
