Dream Work

by Mary Oliver

I wanted the past to go away, I wanted to leave it, like another country; I wanted my life to close, and open like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song where it falls down over the rocks: an explosion, a discovery;

I wanted to hurry into the work of my life; I wanted to know, whoever I was, I was alive for a little while.

Also I wanted to be able to love. And we all know how that one goes, don’t we?

Mostly, I want to be kind. And nobody, of course, is kind, or mean, for a simple reason. And nobody gets out of it, having to swim through the fires to stay in this world.