So I’ve been irregular and a little constipated with my words and posts. It happens. No need to explain. Eventually I do return. There are no better words than Mary Oliver’s. Here’s hers from 3 of her poems rolled in one. The Summer Day, Wild Geese and The Uses of Sorrow. And no better pictures than these of Sheba. They’re worth a thousand words. I haven’t seen her for awhile. They bring tears to my eyes.
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?’, ‘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.’, and ‘Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this too, was a gift.” -Mary Oliver
onethousandandtwo 