Her contemplative poetry often focused on the quiet, everyday occurrences of the natural world, from bears to streams to hummingbirds. In this poem, nature takes on an almost chapel-like quality as a place to reflect, feel love, and connect with something larger than ones-self.
You do not have to be good.
By Mary Oliver
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.
- For much of this piece, Oliver’s diction remains quite simple and everyday. What effect does this have on the poem?
- The poet addresses the reader in the poem. What effect does this have? How might you weave that tool into your own writing?
- The descriptions in this poem are achieved with only an adjective or two to modify their nouns (“wild geese”, “clean blue air”, “harsh and exciting”), and yet the poem feels very evocative. Think about nuanced and specific adjectives you might, yourself, use to elevate the nouns in your work.
- What other questions and noticings do you have?
GREEN & GROW 