
Wild Geese
You do not have to be good.
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.
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 the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
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.
1 comment:
This prose really hit the spot today. Thank you for posting it.xxoo
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