Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver
You do not have to be good.
You do not have to alk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love hat it loves.
Tell me about your despair, yours, and I ill tell you mine.
Meanhile the orld goes on.
Meanhile 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.
Meanhile the ild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter ho lonely,
the orld offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the ild geese, harsh and exciting --
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
