Calvary (Five O’Clock)

descent-of-the-cross-detail

Is it true then,
That we breathe ourselves out and out
Seeking warmth and May?

What is left for us, then?
What is left of us?…
A timid breath?
A flickering breeze?
Or just an immeasurably vast and ghastly silence.
We fade like Gorecky’s song, I guess.

We try…

Try to hold that note, but are not strong enough…
We fade, oh yes! But we never bloomed.
We leave and leave no footmark.
No trail.

But what about that rock she was holding on to?
Don’t you remember her lying on the broken marble floor crying like a Magdalene? She was clinging onto you, in case you didn’t notice. She was there for you, only for you. Shipwrecked, trudging through the never-ending foam, answering the invitation of your open arms.

Her watery eye sought nothing but you. The candles she lit burnt just for you. Just as you asked.
Tell me! How many like her have cried in that mountain of yours? I gather you already got used to her ilk? Those coarse kneeling hordes! Do you even look at them now?
I’ll be your Job tonight. Speak!
Do her tears dissolve into thin air too?
Tell her the truth. Tell her that is her fate. The fate of the man she loved, the fate of the children she begot
and nursed.

Thin air.

The mockery of it!1
in interiore homine habitat veritas2—we are told…
And in we go! oblivious of the road; eyes set only on the promised marvels waiting inside.
We look into ourselves till we go blind…
And see nothing. Find nothing!
We carve ourselves out and out till we grow hollow and then stuff ourselves with heaps of sophisticated rhyming dung.
Nonsense.
Fancy words we don’t understand, one spoon at a time…
And then… when there is no place left…
Then we puke.

We are alone, aren’t we?
It is rather terrifying, don’t you think?
To look around and see only a vast ocean that remembers nothing.
Mute.
Who can endure the Silence?
Green. Ever-still.
Danceless…
I would be content staying at my dank corner
muttering curses and listening to the ebbing tide…
I’m not asking you to change our fate, don’t get me wrong!
But why deceive us?
Why whisper immortality to our greedy souls?
Why words like ‘last’? What for?
The mockery of it!
A silent God!

Why are you here?—He said,
As I stood before his mountain
Oozing pride and despair.
I covered myself and heard nothing but
A timid breeze…
Thin air.

  1. Cfr. James Joyce Ulysses
  2. Cfr. Saint Augustine, De Vera Religione, XXXIX:Noli foras ire, in te ipsum redi. In interiore homine habitat veritas.

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