A Poem for Sunday

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 bodyWildGeese
love what it loves.
Tell me about your 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

3 thoughts on “A Poem for Sunday

  1. Beautiful, evocative poem, Wren. Love the “clear pebbles of the rain” line. Sometimes the rain that falls into our lives feels like that, like we’re being pelted with what should be something good. Thanks for posting!


  2. Meine liebste Zaunkönigen! How funny … I was reading this poem thinking you wrote it and saying to myself, “Hot Dog, she’s good. She writes like Mary Oliver!” And then I got to the end … you have good taste!


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