Wild Geese

There is a poem that hits me square in the heart each time I ponder its lyrics. The poem is typical for Mary Oliver, who is able to take common day elements of nature that we could easily pass by and bring them to life that causes internal reflection. Here she has just looked up at the wild geese who have flown overhead in search of a new home for the changing season. It is my hope that wherever you are today that you may hear the world calling you, reaching deep within your imagination to share with you your place in "the family of things."

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.