Any poetry-quoting Jesuit worth his salt knows his Mary Oliver, Hopkins, Donne and Eliot off by heart. But if he doesn’t also have a serious thing going with Denise Levertov then he doesn’t have his act together yet. It struck me that I have never shared any Levertov with you. Here are a few verses from Contraband:
on the other side of that mirror,
but through the slit where the barrier doesn’t
quite touch ground, manages still
to squeeze in – as filtered light,
splinters of fire, a strain of music heard
then lost, then heard again.
Read the entire poem here.