“Poem of Perfect Miracles,” by Walt Whitman | From the Traditions of Queer Spiritualities

From the Traditions of Queer Spiritualities | Excerpts from “Poem of Perfect Miracles,” by Walt Whitman Read by Vivian Trutzl, MTS II Seasons of Light is hosted by Harvard Divinity School's Office of Religious and Spiritual Life under the direction of Christopher Hossfeld, Director of Music and Ritual, and Kerry A. Maloney, Chaplain and Director of Religious and Spiritual Life. The full video recording of Seasons of Light 2020 can be found on the HDS YouTube page: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hVuYb9d7tCc&t=587s TRANSCRIPT: Why! who makes much of a miracle?  As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,  Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,  Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky, Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the edge of the water, Or stand under trees in the woods,  Or talk by day with any one I love— or sleep in the bed at night with any one I love, Or sit at the table at dinner with my mother,  Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,  Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive, of an August forenoon, Or animals feeding in the fields, To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, Every inch of space is a miracle,  Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same, Every cubic foot of the interior swarms with the same; Every spear of grass— the frames, limbs, organs, of [people] men and women, and all that concerns them, All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles. — Whitman, Walt. Excerpts from “Poem of Perfect Miracles,” Leaves of Grass (1856), whitmanarchive.org.