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