Warkton Village
I see the spring lambs,
the parish church,
the stone dwelling places
with their secret gardens,
sculpted in the slanting light
of the late afternoon sun,
lit in its gentler, kinder colours.
In this place
there is a quiet loveliness:
I did not notice this in the morning
nor at high noon,
and there is now little time.
*
I imagine
the blazing colours of a star cloud
In the Magellan Cluster.
Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini
Hosanna in excelsis
I believe
that we are already among the stars,
that there is a deeper self
cradled in eternity,
safe from earthly turbulence.
But I am also a man,
incarnate in flesh and blood
and I have songs unsung.
Grant that I may find
my own secret garden,
my true dwelling place,
here on earth,
as it is in Heaven.
Perchance
Perchance,
you see an oasis:
water in the desert.
And only then
uncover what you,
In your pain,
had long since forgotten -
your parched, desperate thirst.
Perchance,
you see a doorway,
built only for you, perhaps:
And only then
do you remember
your heartache,
and yearn to return
to where you truly belong.
Unbidden
A summer’s afternoon
in the New Forest,
travelling to visit
the Canadian Cross
where the troops worshipped
before the D-day landings
The deep, ultimate importance
of these men, each of them.
The light reflects and refracts off the leaves:
all is dreamy, drowsy.
Shadowed against the sun,
two children bicycle towards us.
And then without warning...
What if, from birth onwards,
I had completely misunderstood
what was happening around me?
The language that was being spoken,
the plot of the play?
What if there had always been
a deeper meaning,
the real meaning
that I had failed to grasp?
The moment passed:
passed along with the carefree cyclists
and the sunlit lane.
But I shall always remember
those whispers in the sunshine,
when I was invited -
by whom I do not know -
to believe that there is a cosmic choreography
in which we too are participating
dancers and actors,
perhaps only beginning to decode
the words that we may ourselves
unknowingly speak.
Jack and the Old Man
(Inspired by Old Man, by Elizabeth Jennings.)
It was on the night of All Souls
That Jack had his dream
about his meeting with the Old Man.
He had found himself
in some surreal casino
brightly lit, a hall of mirrors
where with cards, and dice
and spinning wheels,
he spent his long life
playing the tables in vain,
despairing of ever
beating the faceless bank,
despairing of ever
escaping from this prison.
And then, perchance, he espied
The spiral staircase,
that led down
Into the dark.
And so,
like Dante without his Virgil
like the oblivious Fool at the cliff’s edge
he descended.
Descended,
Descended,
To find himself
in a darkened underworld,
where no sound penetrated
from the world above,
where all reference points were gone.
And it was here that he met,
face to face,
the Old Man
sitting silently on his throne,
trailing his shadow against the wall.
A face with dignity
tragic yet serene
reminding him perhaps
of a bronze St. Michael
risen from the rubble
of a ruined city,
triumphant over Lucifer
and now at peace,
above the battle,
beyond earthly turbulence.
And Jack spoke to the Old Man,
the better to understand
the reason for this synchronistic meeting,
searching for meaning
searching for some meaning to be gleaned,
some dignity to be found,
some anodyne for him and
his lost loves,
his lost horizons,
his troubled, botched life.
Why am I here -
was it you who sent for me?
asked Jack
for sooner or later, everyone descends
the spiral staircase.
and so he asked
How have you managed to be
so tranquil in your silences?’
and the Old Man replied
my past self that you see
painted on the wall.
I made peace with my ego-enhancing triumphs
I made peace too with my failures and losses
and in time,
I learnt to watch my past life
with equanimity,
to become the still centre point
beyond action,
allowing the Spirit of Tranquillity
to descend.
And Jack wondered
Who are you.,
that you speak thus?
and the Old Man replied:
I am the one that you might
one day become
when you again make the descent
and uncover me,
the Wise One
deep inside yourself.
For my deeds are your deeds
my shadow is your shadow
my past is your past
my destiny is your destiny.
And I am with you always
in your search for Deliverance..
With this, the Old Man vanished.
Jack began his climb upwards;
and as he climbed
he felt that he was not alone
and that thereafter,
there would always be
a shadowy companion,
his Guardian Angel
accompanying him,
He climbed,
climbed
on and upwards through
the deserted gambling halls,
those erstwhile
caves of illusion,
and eventually emerged,
in that domain
where dream and wakefulness coexist -
through the small door
that was created only for him,
to behold the crisp clear night sky
with the stars
in their wheeling constellations.
January 2007
Notes on sources:
“….where no sound penetrated from the world above”
See Wilfred Owen: Strange Meeting: “Where no guns thumped or down the flues made moan”
“…his troubled, botched life”. See Herman Hesse: Knulp. In the final pages God and Knulp review the latter’s ‘botched life’.
“……through the small door”. In Peter Weir’s film The Truman Show the hero finally exits through a small door into the real world
“…that was created only for him”. See Kafka The Trial: chapter entitled ‘In the cathedral’, where K is told “This door was meant only for you….”
“with the stars
in their wheeling constellations”
see Dante’s Divine Comedy: “And thus ascending we beheld the stars”