Poetry

Judgement 27

“They'll say now that creation has no king

There's no anointed son, that’s what they will say,

There's nothing left, and so they are not wrong.”

My garden with the elderberry tree,

Behind the house, the last of everything.

He said this as we talked, Jesus and me.

“Who'll say that? You have saved my life,” I said,

“It is clear you are the Son," and he replied:

“Your will to live, true spiritual combat

Made you survive, and hammered out a path,

A soul and body to perfection brought

Due praise,” he said, “but I am facing death.”

“I never thanked you, man to man, for that,”

And just as in the ruined aftermath

Of foreign wars the British perpetrate

A soldier stops a lone man on the road

And at the roadside asks that countryman

About the British leaving after all,

Now that the war is over and all done,

The man says, ‘Stay, don’t leave, but build and rule,’

Just so I felt, and kissed him as a sign

Of thanks and sadness. Then the curtain fell.

You know when Dorothy arrives in Oz

To have her wishes granted by the boss,

When the scarecrow and the tin man and the lion

And Dorothy from Kansas tell their dreams?

The wizard’s subtle art fails him just then,

His magic trickery tears at the seams

In smoke and noise, just so the scene was torn.

The garden filled with men in uniforms

Shouting, accusing my guide of a crime

And priests in vestments shouting ‘Arrest him!’

Handcuffs were put around his wrists, gently;

They shone a torch before his feet, while hands

Grasped at his elbows. He was led away.

As when you wake up from a vivid trance

During the night, remembering while you lie

Flat on your back, retrieving those dream scenes,

And it is wonderful how opposite

And contradictory things were while you slept;

Just so, this new reality broke out.

I was there, but my heart was in my mouth

My mind was in my stomach, deep inside,

And I did nothing. Let me tell the truth:

You do not look. No. You see. You do not

Listen. No. You hear. You do not breathe.

You want to live. They took him to the van,

The police and the priests took him to town.

I went inside and sat down on a chair,

Asking myself if it would be alright

Now Jesus was arrested. “I am still here,

So, God must still exist. It is all right.”

And then there came a knock upon the door.

A little girl smiling, and at her side,

A man with the uncertain gait of youth

Much taller than the girl. I knew them both

Although I had not seen them many years.

I fell down to my knees and embraced her,

Then stood and held the boy. I was in tears

And finally I fell against the floor

More out of pity for my sake than theirs.

“It is right to cry, father. Both of us saw

How you betrayed the Lord and let him go

I saw what you have done and what you have been through.

“And you have not always done what is right,

Not by us children, nor your holy guide.”

“Come on, let’s go inside. Brother, be quiet,”

The little girl said, so we went inside.

I cannot write it down, I cannot write

The blessed joy. I kissed my daughter’s head,

And smiled and laughed, it was like when the sun

Above cruel seas, casts endless light upon,

And all around the jagged dangerous place,

And sows with light each harsh and bleak aspect;

That power and light were shining upon us.

The boy said: “Jesus, who by your neglect,

Is now in prison, came to our house,

And brought us here. I do not recollect,

The world’s end. I was in school yesterday.

And now I am here to go another way.”

“You mean,” I asked, “that nothing strange occurred?

You did not see the dead end of the world?”

“Well,” my daughter said, “from what we heard,

There is a new creation that he made

For which, being children, we are more prepared.

It was barely a day ago, he came

Saying: Go and find your father at his house

Then start the pilgrimage to Paradise.”

It took the end of the world, but at the end,

I was united with the little ones

And it was my intent, as I explained

To never compromise, not even once.

We did not talk of the past or what happened.

“Now, Father, let us go and see what happens

To Jesus, now they have him under arrest,

Do what is right, and always do the best.”

In town we saw what Mark and Matthew told.

A crowd had gathered, and the senior priest

Was making him explain, and as of old,

That he was God’s Son, and Jesus confessed,

That he was. His accusers were appalled,

They beat him and signed forms for his arrest

And charged him by the law. “How can this be,

That past and present are mixed in this way?

“Eternity came into time before

In just this way.” My son said: “But today

It is history for you to see once more,

And also eternal activity

Which happens always, by an iron law

In every heart, and every liturgy.

Also a drama many need to see

A lesson in a great theology.”

“You know more than I do,” I said to him,

And he: “The new Kingdom is started here.”

There was another meeting yet to come.

We were outside the old Cathedral door

Chester, which once was home to St Anselm,

And we were congregated on the square,

Eyes last I saw in dreams and misery,

Galya’s eyes were there, gazing back at me.