Rainbow at my new place and poem.

[Bernardbreather]

Do you know this?

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.

Mary Oliver

[Billiejean_2]

Very insightful ! I have a poem by Mary Oliver on the noticeboard in my kitchen, given to me by a friend, four years ago. At that time, my husband and I were drowning under demands from relatives, racing back and forth to two other households, as well as trying to cope with our own problems and illnesses.

The poem given to me was the one about the person who walks away from the burning house and the clawing hands and pleadings of the people in it. The last line describes the person walking away to help the only person they can truly, help - themselves. That may seem cruel but it's just a dramatic, poetic way of reminding you that you can't take responsibility for the problems of others. Sure, you can help them but not to the stage where your own health and wellbeing suffers.

Thanks for sharing the poem with us.

[Bernardbreather in reply to Billiejean_2]

Must be this one you mean:

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice – – –

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

‘Mend my life!’

each voice cried.

But you didn’t stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations – – –

though their melancholy

was terrible. It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice,

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do – – – determined to save

the only life you could save.

[Billiejean_2 in reply to Bernardbreather]

Yes, that's the one. A wake-up call for people who take the troubles of the world on their shoulders.

[Hidden]

Lovely both the poem and the picture. x

[Hidden]

Lovely picture & liked the poems. All true to life

[jimmyw123]

lovely poems and picture

it must be a real gift to piece words together like that,

jimmy

[scorpiolass]

Lovely poems , touch the soul and make you think. Love Margaret x