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Wild Geese by Mary Olivier 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.