hibernation is here again, a time of quiet reflection, openness to stillness, preparation for the coming spring
What It Could Be
by Denise Levertov
Uranium, with which we know
only how to destroy,
lies always under
the most sacred lands—
Australia, Africa, America,
wherever it’s found is found an oppressed
ancient people who knew
long before white men found and named it
that there under their feet
under rock, under mountain, deeper
than deepest watersprings, under
the vast deserts familiar
inch by inch to their children
lay a great power.
And they knew the folly
of wresting, wrestling, ravaging from the earth
that which it kept
so guarded.
Now, now, now at this instant,
men are gouging lumps of that power, that presence,
out of the tortured planet the ancients
say is our mother.
Breaking the doors
of her sanctum, tearing the secret
out of her flesh.
But left to lie, its metaphysical weight
might in a million years have proved
benign, its true force being to be
a clue to righteousness—
showing forth
the human power
not to kill, to choose
not to kill, to transcend
the dull force of our weight and will,
that known profound presence, untouched,
the sign
providing witness,
occasion,
ritual
for the continuing act of
nonviolence, of passionate
reverence, active love.
friend, Marshall Lyles, has muscular dystrophy. He suffers, he cares for others, and experiences what it is to walk in this world in this condition. He's doing something about it, about the language of it. I am so grateful. (You can scroll through slowly with the help of the arrows.)
About Healing
What can I teach you
that isn’t better said
by the still knowing of your body?
Here, I’ll hush
and we can wait together.
In the silence
it can seem as if
the truth is running late.
Trust her anyway.
She’s taking the shortest path
she knows
Winding her way
through the ropes in your belly and
navigating the lightning storms
of your heart
takes care
and it takes time.
Tell me about
the first tree you ever loved –
the one who
when you smiled
smiled
back.
When the truth arrives,
she’ll meet you
where your roots
are strongest –
she knows you’ll need them
to anchor you to
your grief.
