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04/16/2017 11:33 am
|
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. |
| 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. -- Mary Oliver |
04/16/2017 1:14 pm
“I Am Not I”
I am not I.
I am this one
walking beside me whom I do not see,
whom at times I manage to visit,
and whom at other times I forget;
who remains calm and silent while I talk,
and forgives, gently, when I hate,
who walks where I am not,
who will remain standing when I die.
04/19/2017 7:27 pm
I know, right? Love that poem. So glad it was helpful. And your suggestion for poems was so synchronistic for me. I was reading the NY Times magazine on Sunday when I saw a haunting photo at the beginning the article about Turkey and I thought...wouldn't it be nice to balance out the predictions and political talk with some entries from the dreamers and artists. And lo and behold.... What, are you psychic or something? Hahaha!