… who cannot learn/anything from suffering,/suffer, are tortured, die in incomprehension./

This human being, each night nevertheless summoning – with a breath at a flame,/or hand’s touch/on a lamp-switch – darkness/silently utters,/impelled as if by a need to cup the palms/and drink from a river;/words, ‘Thanks./Thanks for this day, a day of my life.’/And wonders.

Denise Levertov

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Wonders.  Do they not exceed suffering?  Are they not brighter, more luminous? Recurrent?  Ever-lasting?  Signs of heaven?  Beyond?

What makes life buoyant?  And who creates wonders?  It is not I.  It is not you. At best, we are the conveyance.  The small wooden cart of the Russian Jewish peasant, a cargo carrier of precious wonder – in tiny things and more.

Wonder.  A baby born.  A mother’s love.  The unconquerable will that rises above poverty and homelessness.  The fidelity of love.  Brotherhood. Bravery. Sacrifice. The sweetness of Yo Yo Ma’s cello.  The painter.  The words of the poet.  The gift of an actor who suspends self so to show us another and in that show us who we are.  The author who awakens the soul we carry and makes of it fertile ground to feed the world.  Christ.

To miss wonder is to “die in incomprehension.”  To suffer.  Learn not – such a needless daily price to pay when wonder is the yield.

Wonder.  Christ.

Without a wound that opens the body, could the Light exit?  Appear to others?

one soldier thrust his lance into his side, and immediately blood and water flowed out.

Jn 19:34

In darkness do you silently utter, cup the palm, drink from the river?


Note: Denise Levertov’s father came from a Hasidic Jewish family, converted to Christianity and became an Anglican priest.  Wonders.  Yes, wonders.

Thank you for sharing what has been written here, and its ideas.  We are of a Living God.  Your witness matters.  Place these words in your peasant’s cart and carry them to another.

We must change points of reference so we might speak and live in wonder. Peace be with you.