Wisdom's House

In the mail on Wednesday I received the most lovely of gifts. It was from my host family as I was a volunteer through Lutheran Volunteer Corps a number of years ago. They are wonderful souls with whom I continue to keep in some degree of contact. They are, in fact, who introduced me to Denise Levertov's work - she being the author of the poem for which this blog site is named. He is among other things an artist and poet and he wrote the following in the letter to me:

"Which leads me to explain the enclosed poem. "Wisdom's House" has been published in a small Christian literary magazine Windhover. But it started with a question you made me ask. One day I was watching you interact with homeless and/or obviously disturbed or stoned individuals who you knew through N House (the homeless shelter where I worked). The way that you dropped all pretense and agendas of your own and became available to them made me ask, what house did [Amused] grow up in to become this way. It made me also think of [my volunteer house] and the many LVC houses and households and the volunteer interactions that take place."

Wisdom's House
--for [Amused]

I've seen her house levitate
lift its burden against gravity
arc across the rippled roof lines
of the sleeping city.

I've heard her front porch speak
with the tongue of movie rights
in the timbre of patent law
and on the twelve point ritual.

When we arrive at Wisdom's house
the doors recite stories. Windows
unravel old ghost secret hymns.
Saints heat water, brew tea.

The border between the work
of our hands on fresh mornings
and the words of hearts seek
on pale evenings, that margin blurs.

A slow wind sings itself
through each room, stands in
every doorway, is already asking
if we need another home.

by Robert [last name...since I haven't told him I'm putting this on the internet]

One reason I love poetry is because I don't every get it all the first time. And, I know that this will take a number of reads for me to soak it all in. And, like scripture, I may read it differently depending on where I am in life.

And, my heart swells as I realize that it's really about the home in which I was brought up - that it's about those who supported me since I first was and those who helped support me as I branched out.