Making Peace by Denise Levertov
A voice from the dark called out,
“The poets must give us
imagination of peace, to oust the intense, familiar
imagination of disaster. Peace, not only
the absence of war.”
But peace, like a poem,
is not there ahead of itself,
can’t be imagined before it is made,
can’t be known except
in the words of its making,
grammar of justice,
syntax of mutual aid.
A feeling towards it,
dimly sensing a rhythm, is all we have
until we begin to utter its metaphors,
learning them as we speak.
A line of peace might appear
if we restructured the sentence our lives are making,
revoked its reaffirmation of profit and power,
questioned our needs, allowed
long pauses. . . .
A cadence of peace might balance its weight
on that different fulcrum; peace, a presence,
an energy field more intense than war,
might pulse then,
stanza by stanza into the world,
each act of living
one of its words, each word
a vibration of light—facets
of the forming crystal.
Trying and failing three times now to find the right words to send you at this time. My simple wish for your family’s safety and peace for your part of the world will have to do for now.
Beautiful, Kristin. Thank you for sharing. Feeling everything right along with you.
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I love this part, “questioned our needs, allowed long pauses.”
My mind keeps chattering: but ….but ….. but…….
Trying to force long pauses.
Thank you for finding these good words.
That’s probably the line that struck me the most.