Part 34 (1/2)
Whatever light the G.o.ddess had once shone Around her favourite coming from the bath Was what was needed then: there should have been Fresh linen, ministrations by attendants, Procession and amazement. Instead, she took Each rolled elastic stocking and drew it on Like the life she would not fail and was not Meant for. And once, when she'd scoured the basin, She came and sat to please us on the swing, Neither out of place nor in her element, Just tempted by it for a moment only, Half-retrieving something half-confounded.
Instinctively we knew to let her be.
To start up by yourself, you hitched the rope Against your backside and backed on into it Until it tautened, then tiptoed and drove off As hard as possible. You hurled a gathered thing From the small of your own back into the air.
Your head swept low, you heard the whole shed creak.
We all learned one by one to go sky high.
Then townlands vanished into aerodromes, Hiros.h.i.+ma made light of human bones, Concorde's neb migrated towards the future.
So who were we to want to hang back there In spite of all?
In spite of all, we sailed Beyond ourselves and over and above The rafters aching in our shoulderblades, The give and take of branches in our arms.
Two Stick Drawings
I.
Claire O'Reilly used her granny's stick A crook-necked one to snare the highest briars That always grew the ripest blackberries.
When it came to gathering, Persephone Was in the halfpenny place compared to Claire.
She'd trespa.s.s and climb gates and walk the railway Where sootflakes blew into convolvulus And the train tore past with the stoker yelling Like a balked king from his iron chariot.
II.
With its drover's canes and blackthorns and ashplants, The ledge of the back seat of my father's car Had turned into a kind of stick-shop window, But the only one who ever window-shopped Was Jim of the hanging jaw, for Jim was simple And rain or s.h.i.+ne he'd make his desperate rounds From windscreen to back window, hands held up To both sides of his face, peering and groaning.
So every now and then the sticks would be Brought out for him and stood up one by one Against the front mudguard; and one by one Jim would take the measure of them, sight And wield and slice and poke and parry The unhindering air; until he found The true extension of himself in one That made him jubilant. He'd run and crow, Stooped forward, with his right elbow stuck out And the stick held horizontal to the ground, Angled across in front of him, as if He were leashed to it and it drew him on Like a harness rod of the inexorable.
A Call
'Hold on,' she said, 'I'll just run out and get him.
The weather here's so good, he took the chance To do a bit of weeding.'
So I saw him Down on his hands and knees beside the leek rig, Touching, inspecting, separating one Stalk from the other, gently pulling up Everything not tapered, frail and leafless, Pleased to feel each little weed-root break, But rueful also ...
Then found myself listening to The amplified grave ticking of hall clocks Where the phone lay unattended in a calm Of mirror gla.s.s and sunstruck pendulums ...
And found myself then thinking: if it were nowadays, This is how Death would summon Everyman.
Next thing he spoke and I nearly said I loved him.
The Errand
'On you go now! Run, son, like the devil
And tell your mother to try To find me a bubble for the spirit level And a new knot for this tie.'
But still he was glad, I know, when I stood my ground, Putting it up to him With a smile that trumped his smile and his fool's errand, Waiting for the next move in the game.
A Dog Was Crying Tonight in Wicklow Also in memory of Donatus Nwoga
When human beings found out about death
They sent the dog to Chukwu with a message: They wanted to be let back to the house of life.
They didn't want to end up lost forever Like burnt wood disappearing into smoke Or ashes that get blown away to nothing.
Instead, they saw their souls in a flock at twilight Cawing and headed back for the same old roosts And the same bright airs and wing-stretchings each morning.