EVERY LINE SINGS OF HOPE. In the poem called, 'The Fountain', Denise Levertov manages in every line to sing of hope without ever mentioning the word once. Often in retreats I'll share this poem and we'll work with its' images comparing them to other poetic images in sacred texts and to the poetry of our lives. This poem is one of the first poems I memorized and comes back to me in times of darkness and despair.
‘The Fountain’ by Denise Levertov.
Don’t say, don’t say there is no water
to solace the dryness at our hearts.
I have seen
The fountain springing out of the rock wall
and you drinking there. And I too
before your eyes
found footholds and climbed
to drink the cool water.
The woman of that place, shading her eyes,
frowned as she watched-but not because
she grudged the water,
only because she was waiting
to see we drank our fill and were
Don’t say, don’t say there is no water.
That fountain is there among it’s scalloped
green and gray stones,
it is still there and always there
with it’s quiet song and strange power
to spring in us,
up and out through the rock.
-Denise Levertov



                                              COLLATERAL DAMAGE

It’s no longer just about them, you know, those nameless names that get in the way of our semi-accurate bombs and drones, or those children on the nightly news fleeing war or gunned down on our city streets.
Too bad. Sorry. What’s for lunch?
No, now, it’s about us. We are the ones. Really.
Yes, we the ones who are killed. Bombed, gunned down, droned and drowned sitting in our comfy living room chairs or standing at the kitchen counter.
When we do nothing, say nothing, think nothing, feel nothing about the vile and villainous doings in this world…
Every time that one of those nameless names is maimed or murdered and we carry on as though another atomic bomb did not just explode in our faces…
Then we die. A vital part of our precious humanity simply goes up in smoke.

But, cheer-up. It’s ok.  Keep watching. Post another selfie.  Sip a latte. Have a piece of pie. 



IN CASE YOU HADN'T NOTICED: In case you hadn't noticed there's a terrible tide surging up and tearing down those tall trees full of lovely leaves.
It's like some newly opened wound inflicted before you or I were born,
pusing fear and hatred from venomous mouths with pompous pouts.
Tell me, what are we? What have we become?
Is our nobility merely sleeping or is our noble king dead, poisoned through the endless hearing
of mindless rants without a human head?