Wild Geese
The Christmas season is a crazy season; both good crazy and bad crazy. I've been too swamped to read or keep up on politics, the Dem campaign trail, Iraq war coverage, or any other noteworthy news topic that's important to the future. I promise I will catch up.
Meanwhile, I wanted to post one of my most cherished poems-- "Wild Geese," by Mary Oliver. I first came across the poem in the introductory pages of Terry Tempest Williams masterful book, Refuge, published by Pantheon books, 1991. In her poem, Oliver reminds us that we are not separate islands (borrowing an image by John Donne), who are un-affected by others; or that we don't affect others. We are connected and what we do and how we do it set things in motion that affect others, possibly the course of the future.
Moreover, "Wild Geese" is an epiphane on what community should be--a place where we work, live, play, worship, etc. under the auspices of inclusiveness, respect, and peace. For me, it is a constant invitation to return to the flock's formation, high above the earth, to fly to that home we all sense we are a part of.
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 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.
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