I did not come into this world to be comforted. I came, like red bird, to sing. But I’m not red bird, with his head-mop of flame and the red triangle… - Mary Oliver

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I did not come into this world
to be comforted.
I came, like red bird, to sing.
But I’m not red bird, with his head-mop of flame
and the red triangle of his mouth
full of tongue and whistles,
but a woman whose love has vanished,
who thinks now, too much, of roots
and the dark places
where everything is simply holding on.