A Cage To Hold My Dreams
In Deum Speravi (The Journey)
I thought this would be a journey of fear, the leaving of life,
the surrender of thought, the loss of emotion,
separation from everyone I had loved, from the wild grasses
and brown-green hills of Ireland and the fond memories
of a childhood whose colours I had taken from a rainbow.
When my breath began to falter and the blood in my veins
screamed like a steam-whistle, I knew that my hold on life
was weakening and that the roses outside my window
would enjoy their brief day without me.
This is the day when walls which have stood for thousands
of years crumble like houses of cards, when I am cut off from
the sounds of living, the flutter of wings, the steady drone
of a lawn-mower, the stirring sounds of a symphony
none of these shall ever again win my attention.
Nor shall I weep or smile or send red roses. Rivers shall soak
into the earth, and skylines disappear, as ages past and
centuries unarrived merge into a single heartbeat.
It is the unwritten law. Creatures of earth must submit their
flesh to be drained of all blood before the spirit can be
released for its journey beyond normality. The time has arrived
to cut the chains which bind me to this earth.
My dread of the approaching blackness was extreme until
that final moment when the terror receded like a bad dream
before the slim, golden ribbon of dawn.
A calm, inner voice whispered softly but surely to me that
there was nothing to fear ; that at its worst, death is but
a gateway from one creation and another, a brief interlude
between mortal sleep and perpetual wakefulness.
But what, I wonder, shall this new existence contain ?
Shall I meet again those champions of fairness and decency
who prepared the ground for my early landings ?
Will my mother again hold me in arms which I folded
so lovingly after her soul had been set free ? Will my father's
voice, as soothing as a cat's purr but lost to me for half a century,
end its silence ? Will he appear before me cured of that final
illness which ate into his flesh and bleached his bones ?
And what of the goddess mother of my two babies whose leaving
crushed my spirit like a steam-hammer? She was the source of
all joy to me, falling as life-restoring rain onto that bleak landscape
which before she announced herself had been my soul
If I should see her again, framed in pale light, I shall
hesitate before believing that it is she, fearful of mistaking
her for a cloud passing in front of the moon. Only when I know
there has been no mistake, will I be certain that life is over
and that I cannot go back.
I had not expected calmness, nor to feel contented or at ease. Thinking that the division of spirit from my body would
be acutely discomforting, I had prepared myself for the worst.
But here, now, upon the apron of death, within my expired
self, I feel nothing, only my soul being elevated, borne away
on shoulders of love, away from the tumult of this world in
which I have taken part so vigorously, and by which at times
I have been severely criticised.
Yet even when unbearable sorrow choked my spirit like weeds,
not once did I wish for life to end. I loved it with a passion
which was intemperate, and held firmly to it like someone
fearful of drowning would cling to a raft
Now I am a sunflower shut off from the sun, I am peace ripped
apart by gunfire. I have no more words to write, nor time
to revise what is written. Lovers and friends depart this life, frequently without warning, yet, fools that we are, we seem
unaware that we, too, step nearer to death each time we breathe.
We have so little time, so insignificant our ration of years,
that even if we love to the full extent of our beings,
there will always be more to give than people to receive.
Yet how often, and how needlessly,do we withhold love from those whose hearts cry out for it like terror-stricken babies
separated from their mothers
My children stare at the space which my soul has vacated,
knowing from their Christian upbringing where it has gone,
and yet with flowing tears and desolate hearts they wish that
I could draw down their faces onto mine for one last kiss.
My attendants--for who else are they ?--pause at the door
long enough for me to glimpse my earthly remains, eyes open
and sightless, slack-jawed, contorted, grotesque and pitiable,
this once vain creature who in life uttered little that was
serious or wise, yet wrote with a kingly ambition, and who,
after the hour of midnight, asked only for soft music, a glass
of wine and the freedom to write.
But lying awake, before the grey morning crept forward to cradle
my brain in its healing hands, how often has my writing has been
unable to comfort me ? How many times have I wanted to exchange
my sleepless nights for blank pages ? How often did I promise
to abandon everything for the love of a beautiful woman ?
Domine, In te speravi. Salvum me ex omnibus persequentibus me. Memento verbi tui servo tuo, Domine, in quo mihi spem dedisti ;
Haec me consolata est in humilitate est. The text of holy Mass
echoes through my mind as a ribbon of light tightens round me
like a tourniquet, a light is so radiant, so blinding,
that raising a hand to shield my eyes is no better than waving
a stick at the oncoming tide.
The reds and blues and violets excite my consciousness,
spinning, dancing, changing shapes, disappearing and being
replaced, merging first with one vivid colour then another.
They are attended by evocative smells which I remember and adore.
Apple blossom, jasmine, woodsmoke, newly baked bread,
a woman's hair shining in the soft lamplight after washing.
Beyond the colours I see a crowd assembling in small groups,
conversing in whispers, preoccupied, secretive. The jury is assembling to examine my life. They will decide my fate, judge me
for what I have done or failed to do, as prophesised in ancient Scriptures. This is the event towards which my steps have been
slowly, fearfully, making their way since birth.
Yet I am unafraid as I walk towards them. I seek from them
only compassion and kindness. That is my birthright. Exaudi orationem meam, Domine. Beatus qui intelligit super egenum et pauperem. Lord God, incline them favourably towards my misdeeds.
Let my goodness in their sight stand equal with my failings.
Tell me, men of wisdom and propriety, who amongst you, who
were once subject to the same passions and temptations as I,
can truthfully say that at one careless moment, you were not
seduced by vanity or corruption?
I have often caused anger and frustration, yet after every shadow
of my making, sunlight re-appeared as warmly as before , and I
wrote truthfully everytime I took up a pen. My words exist not to
satisfy a desire or to follow a fashion. They tell the world
about the joys and sorrows which attended my spirit.
Who amongst you, when grief took hold of your minds, relentless
in its fury, did not, at some point in lifetimes now expired,
turn from the true path and travel part of the way as I did,
lost, fretful and alone? Which of you, when confused or angry
or pursued by demons, has not behaved shamefully?
Judge me, I entreat you, not as emissaries from the most high,
but as men born of flesh and blood who are drawn to compassion
and forgiveness, and will not despise me for the frailty which
has served me so poorly.
In neighbouring hollows, thousands of simultaneous judgements
are being made. Anxiety shows in the faces of those awaiting verdicts. But the hell of my imagination, and theirs, is not one
of fire, nor filthy dungeons, or evil clones of satan wielding
bull-whips, nor demons or fallen angels on destructive rampages.
The most terrible of all fates is exclusion from the kingdom
of God. For there abides love, and an eternity without love is
terror unimaginable. Men and women cower before prosecutors
who balance good works against wrong-doings, and abject are those souls whose lives contain nothing to mellow the judgements
of those on high.
Lord God, I speak for them and for myself. Do not abandon us.
Flesh cannot rise of itself, nor guilt retreat into dark corners.
We are what we have done, and we must account for our conduct.
But walk amongst us and you will see how willing we are to make
amends. Deus judex justus, fortis et patiens. Sana animam meam
quia peccavi tibi. Vide humilitatem meam et laborem meam et demitte mea.
No-one is born into the world with evil already engraved in
their hearts. But for good fortune and wise example, damnation
would be the destiny of us all. Must a man who roams with beasts
and learns no language be reviled because he cannot converse with scholars ? Is not his ignorance and isolation punishment enough ?
Absolve, Domine, animas omnium defunctorum ab omni vinculo
delictorum. Requiem dona eis. Et gratua tua illis succurente,
mereantur evadere judicium ultionis. Et lucus aeternae
beatitudine perfrui.
Lord God, have pity on we whose lives were empty and without
refinement. Look upon us not as carriers of disease but as
starving children. Do not keep us from the great contentments
of heaven, with its mountains so high they dwarf the shimmering
universe and its valleys so wide that each one accommodates
a hundred million galaxies.
Of all the jewels which have shone throughout creation, none is
more noble or gracious than the human heart, and the sign of God
is to be found in the eyes of neglected children more than in
all the grand palaces of civilisation.
So sound the fanfare. Let the verdicts be given. Let us step
forward unafraid. For we who were loved know what to expect of
heaven and we who found no love on earth are already
accustomed to the darkness.
Hertfordshire 2002
