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.

This beautiful poem resonated with me this week, reminding me to listen to my body. Dropping down into your physical form and sensing what is there to be noticed is powerful. It reveals much, and allows you to ground and transcend the many feelings and thoughts that continually pass through you.

You are not alone, ever. Be still and listen, the world is singing.