Mary Oliver

I didn't know much about her while she was alive. Now that she has died, poems of hers are appearing on the Internet and I like some of them.

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.

Mary Oliver, “Wild Geese”