Tuesday, December 24, 2024 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

Denise Levertov

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He told of journeys,
                    of where sun and moon go while we stand in dark,
                    of an earth-journey he dreamed he would take some day
deeper than roots ...
He told of the dreams of man, wars, passions, griefs,
                    and I, a tree, understood words – ah, it seemed
my thick bark would split like a sapling's that
                                                            grew too fast in the spring
when a late frost wounds it.

 
Denise Levertov

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A long time ago my father told me what his father told him, that there was once a Lakota holy man, called Drinks Water, who dreamed what was to be; and this was long before the coming of the Wasichus. He dreamed that the four-leggeds were going back into the earth and that a strange race had woven a spider's web all around the Lakotas. And he said: "When this happens, you shall live in square gray houses, in a barren land, and beside those square gray houses you shall starve." They say he went back to Mother Earth soon after he saw this vision, and it was sorrow that killed him. You can look about you now and see that he meant these dirt-roofed houses we are living in, and that all the rest was true. Sometimes dreams are wiser than waking.

 
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The laurel-tree grew large and strong,
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I told [the Commonwealth Commissioners] I lived in the virtue of that life and power that took away the occasion of all wars... I told them I was come into the covenant of peace which was before wars and strife were.

 
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Then as he sang
it was no longer sounds only that made the music:
he spoke, and as no tree listens I listened, and language
                    came into my roots
                                out of the earth,
                    into my bark
                                out of the air,
into the pores of my greenest shoots
            gently as dew
and there was no word he sang but I knew its meaning.

 
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In the secret space of dreams, Where I dreaming lay amazed, When the secrets all are told, And the petals all unfold. When there was no dream of mine, You dreamed of me

 
Robert Hunter
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