Denise Levertov: Intimation

Denise Levertov
I am impatient with these branches, this light.
The sky, however blue, intrudes.
Because I’ve begun to see
there is something else I must do,
I can’t quite catch the rhythm
of days I moved well to in other winters.
The steeple tree
was cut down, the one that daybreak
used to guild–that fervor of birds and cherubim
subdued. Drought has dulled
many a green blade.
                  Because
I know a different need has begun
to cast its line out from me into
a place unknown, I reach
for a silence almost present,
elusive among my heartbeats.

______________

My apologies to all those who read the first posting of this–I accidentally left out a line which has since been edited back in. I am usually very careful with others’ poetry, and it was not my intention to disrupt the meaning or flow of this excellent poem.

Denise Levertov: Passage

(Oct. 24, 1923-Dec. 20, 1997)

Passage

The spirit that walked upon the face of the waters
walks the meadow of long grass;
green shines to silver where the spirit passes.

Wind from the compass points, sun at meridian,
these are forms the spirit enters,
breath, ruach, light that is witness and by which we witness.

The grasses numberless, bowing and rising, silently
cry hosanna as the spirit
moves them and moves burnishing

over and again upon mountain pastures
a day of spring, a needle’s eye
space and time are passing through like a swathe of silk.

                                            –Denise Levertov