Stepping Westward
What is green in me
darkens, muscadine.
If woman is inconstant,
good, I am faithful to
ebb and flow, I fall
in season and now
is a time of ripening.
If her part
is to be true,
a north star,
good, I hold steady
in the black sky
and vanish by day,
yet burn there
in blue or above
quilts of cloud.
There is no savor
more sweet, more salt
than to be glad to be
what, woman,
and who, myself,
I am, a shadow
that grows longer as the sun
moves, drawn out
on a thread of wonder.
If I bear burdens
they begin to be remembered
as gifts, goods, a basket
of bread that hurts
my shoulders but closes me
in fragrance. I can
eat as I go.
Denise Levertov
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Found again...
...after it had been tucked away in an old journal for about fifteen years...I first read it when I was just getting started in ministry. It holds up well!
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4 comments:
this is one of my favorite poems OF. ALL. TIME.
she IS good, isn't she?
I love Leverton, great poem.
I'd forgotten how much I like this poem. Thanks for finding it.
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