Poetry

Apocalypse 27

I said to Jesus: “Can I speculate

And throw my thoughts out like one placing bets

On red or black as they do at roulette?

I need to talk and hear without regrets.”

And he: “Go on, speak and investigate.”

So I said: “God destroys and God creates.

You live forever, and create all things,

Why now reduce us to our origins?”

And he, “Go on, speak and reveal your mood.”

And I: “Why have you been so merciless,

To let these souls all die, however bad?”

“You ask me why, from my all-seeing eyes,

Tears do not fall? Why I don’t intercede

To forgive and reprieve?” Then I said: “Yes.”

He stopped his walking, turned his eyes from me,

Then shook his head, and gave me this reply:

“Tell me about your marriage and your wife.”

And I: “My father and others had said,

That she was mad and dangerous to love.

She was a prostitute owned by the state.

I did not listen, for I aimed to prove

That she was not insane and could be good.

She hated me the more honest I was

And many times she killed the both of us

“With violence and half-cocked suicide.

She never let me live in my own house.

Three children were there, whose names I will hide.

And for their sakes I never left that spouse,

Though, following her mad rules, she denied

Me any time with them, for sixteen years.

Now, ultimately, when I turned to God

He told me I should leave her and for good.

“The moment came, I took a second marriage.

A new life. Then the devastation started

So that the children needed all their courage.

She took their food and called them each a bastard,

She isolated them in her own image.

What bad was there in me when I departed,

And left her?” Then my Lord said: “The children

Were rescued for a new life with you, then.

“I told them at Jerusalem before

To watch for false prophets, especially as

I would return. There is a lake of fire

For those who will not see me face to face,”

He gestured right and left from where we were,

“To disappear into eternal peace.”

I saw that boiling lake he pointed to,

And men and women on the shoreline, too.

“We’re moving quickly to the final ground

Of time, where it began and where it ends.

And as all time is gathered in my mind,

Not happening for me in brief seconds,

But all together, so it must rewind.

Backwards sweeping along just like clock hands

Passing through every physical station

Or else all past and future would live on.

“You’ve seen the angels of the revelation

The cries of martyrs, and the final battle.

So what remains is plague then elevation

Of the elect. And you will see how little

I had to work with, for your evolution.

You’ll see I chose the mammal not the beetle

To be the vehicle for my ideal

The ideal man evolving in the mammal.”

“Sir,” I said, “I am grateful for all that.

Your care for me, your mercy, your knowledge.

And I regret you had to set me straight

Showing how, like a husband you did judge,

To rescue innocents from a bad state,

And kill the world.” There was a kind of ridge,

The path we trod on, either side the fire

Which roiled and burned up any volunteer

Who went inside by accident or will.

Our path had brought us to this narrow spot

And people had to walk in single file

Above that lake all smoking and all hot.

It bothered me the fire gave off no smell,

“Master, I’ve known the way things stink in heat

In summer as it was when they set fire

To waste In Iraq and in Bosnia

“But I smell nothing now. How can this be?”

And he: “But speak to him among the martyrs

Who were awakened, this one from Derby.

You know him.” And my Lord tapped on the shoulders

Of one in front, and then made way for me

So I could speak with one of these old soldiers.

The man turned to reveal his face, then walked

“I was too sick to fight, or to object,

“But was of the Great War generation.

And, fluent in my anti-Christian work,

Insisted that English regeneration

Must be physical. That was my mistake.”

“I know you, from your pictures. I am Jason

And you are D.H. Lawrence,” so I spoke.

“My guide has told me you and I should talk;

So, where’s the stink of this great burning lake?”

And he: “We’re moving to the final cause,

The time the Cenozoic started off,

The great extinction of the dinosaurs,

Where birds with difficulty can survive

And only little things like small spiders

And miniature mammals made of the stuff

To hide in holes and live in harshest cold.

And as the Lord said, from such we were called.

“So, just as living cells were on the rocket

Which touched down on the Moon in ‘Sixty-nine

And those cells ate and lived another decade

In the outrageous cold and airless Moon;

Just so, our ancestors burned to the socket

And could survive through any extinction.

And we, the two of us, are going back

Survivors of a nuclear attack

“By God’s gift, by God’s grace, by faith in Him.

But not so fast. First you will lose your nose

Or sense of smell. That’s gone. And as we come

To see the final end and to the close

Your taste will go; your ears will start to hum;

And then you will not see things with your eyes

Until, at last, even your touch will fail;

Eternal intellect will be your all.”