I thought I was growing wingsโ it was a cocoon. I thought, now is the time to step into the fireโ it was deep water. Eschatology is a word I learned as a child: the study of Last Things; facing my mirrorโno longer young, the newsโalways of death, the dogsโrising from sleep and clamoring and howling, howling.... ("Seeing For a Moment")
Denise LevertovDays pass when I forget the mystery. Problems insoluble and problems offering their own ignored solutions jostle for my attention, they crowd its antechamber along with a host of diversions, my courtiers, wearing their colored clothes; caps and bells. And then once more the quiet mystery is present to me, the throng's clamor recedes: the mystery that there is anything, anything at all, let alone cosmos, joy, memory, everything, rather than void: and that, 0 Lord, Creator, Hallowed one, You still, hour by hour sustain it.
Denise LevertovThe poem has a social effect of some kind whether or not the poet wills it to have. It has a kenetic force, it sets in motion...elements in the reader that would otherwise remain stagnant.
Denise LevertovA poet articulating the dreads and horrors of our time is necessary in order to make readers understand what is happening, really understand it, not just know about it but feel it: and should be accompanied by a willingness on the part of those who write it to take additional action towards stopping the great miseries which they record.
Denise Levertov