Heat, blessed water, vibrant petals, resting in the shade - summer's gifts amidst our dear Earth's struggles
Beginners
Denise Levertov
Dedicated to the memory of Karen Silkwood and Eliot Gralla
“From too much love of living,
Hope and desire set free,
Even the weariest river
Winds somewhere to the sea--“
But we have only begun
To love the earth.
We have only begun
To imagine the fullness of life.
How could we tire of hope?
-- so much is in bud.
How can desire fail?
-- we have only begun
to imagine justice and mercy,
only begun to envision
how it might be
to live as siblings with beast and flower,
not as oppressors.
Surely our river
cannot already be hastening
into the sea of nonbeing?
Surely it cannot
drag, in the silt,
all that is innocent?
Not yet, not yet--
there is too much broken
that must be mended,
too much hurt we have done to each other
that cannot yet be forgiven.
We have only begun to know
the power that is in us if we would join
our solitudes in the communion of struggle.
So much is unfolding that must
complete its gesture,
so much is in bud.
Our 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.)
Bless the Torn
Eileen D. Moeller
Bless the torn
part of each day,
the ruptures in us
that caused it
to tear where it did.
Bless the green
heart of each rupture,
the small green
kernel of hope
saved for replanting.
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.
