"Truly, we live with mysteries ...."

Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous


to be understood.



How grass can be nourishing in the


mouths of the lambs.


How rivers and stones are forever


in allegiance with gravity


while we ourselves dream of rising.


How two hands touch and the bonds


will never be broken.


How people come, from delight or the


scars of damage,


to the comfort of a poem.



Let me keep my distance, always, from those


who think they have the answers.



Let me keep company always with those who say


"Look!" and laugh in astonishment,

and bow their heads.


Mary Oliver

"You do not have to be good ...."

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

"You only have to let the soft animal ...."

You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

Mary Oliver