A Poem for Women Who Do Too Much
Here’s a poem I’ve found myself sending to a number of my friends lately:
Wild Geese by Mary Oliver.
I dedicate it especially to all the good girls out there, all the women who do too much.
That used to be me. Not so much now.
While I was learning to let go, this poem spoke to me — especially the first five lines, the final two, and that “meanwhile”.
Wild Geese by Mary Oliver
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.
Aaaah!
Can I also recommend to you Oliver’s book about writing and reading poetry (in particular, metrical verse): Rules for the Dance.
Any similarities between its title and that of A Dance in Time are fully intended.
——
ps. The picture is the view from my balcony at full moon two nights ago — yes, I am back in S. Aaaah again!