I whisper the words.

I melt. I unhinge. I exhale.

My life has been one of good, of held breath and begging being.

I watch him nestle in, all soft animal and certain of what he loves. I breathe deep his knowing and say the words again.

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.
Mary Oliver : “Wild Geese”

*Thank you Mandy for bringing these words into my life and Rain for asking all the right questions.

linked up with imperfect prose

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