This Wild Longing

Nodding to Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to know the intimate ways
of the world to be sure
you are worthy
of love.

Brush your finger along the back of my hand
or smooth the softest skin of my cheek
and know that the gristle
of the uninvited sorrow
and unrequited love
is all I have had
at my meager table
until you.

This wild longing,
this rain on the dry and damaged fields,
is what heals and gives hope for a new way
where lonely is forgiven
and I offer myself,
harsh and exciting,
to the universe
full of the flight
of migration
toward
the soul's home.