language, came into my roots, out of the earth. I was seed again.

Were both frost and fire, it's chords flamed

up to the crown of me.

"living a life" the poem begins

"--the beauty of deep lines

dug in your cheeks"

and ends

"you pick out

your own song from the uproar,

line by line

and at last throw back 

your head and sing it."

-Denise Levertov