Poetry

Today, I got caught up in poetry. Specifically, Mary Oliver. How is it that I had not discovered her magic until recently?

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.

Poetry like this is like a Van Gogh painting – it stops me in my tracks; makes me gasp with its beauty.

Art: I am happy to be contemplating beauty and not the ugliness that man creates every day. Humans also create beauty: music, books, poetry, paintings, sculpture – and more and more.

The Mother creates beauty we cannot even emulate. Yet I intent to try. I am enthralled by the idea of reclaiming a piece of land, observing what the Mother does, learning from her, being her handmaiden – assisting her to create a place of magic for all that grows and lives in a beautiful garden.

About goodyniosi

Writer, avid(!!!) hiker - living life to the fullest. Love, life, bliss - getting high on getting high (in the alpine that is)
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