Denise Levertov has long been my favorite poet. She helps me remember the beauty of being. Typing her words to you helps me remember yet again.
TRANSLUCENCE
Once I understood (till I forget, at least)
the immediacy of new life, Vita Nova,
redemption not stuck in linear delays,
I perceived also (for now) the source
of unconscious light in faces
I believe are holy, not quite transparent,
more like the half-opaque whiteness
of Japanese screens or lampshades,
grass or petals imbedded in that paper-thin
substance which is not paper as this is paper,
and which permits the passage of what is luminous
though forms remain unseen behind its protection.
I perceive that in such faces, through
the translucence we see, the light we intuit
is of the already resurrected, each
a Lazarus, but a Lazarus (man or woman)
without memory of tomb or of any
swaddling bands except perhaps
the comforting ones of their first
infant house, the warm receiving blanket...
They know of themselves nothing different
from anyone else. This great unknowing
is part of their holiness. They are always trying
to share out joy as if it were cake or water,
something ordinary, not rare at all.
