Classic Poem

—Forty days
and forty nights, which were as days
starlight, moonlight, lamplight, sunlight
fell on his form, compact of light,
as, on dark form shade falls.
To feel him with us was enough
enough to have a look in flashing moments
how his neck behind his ear
sloped to the beam-like shoulder of the Carpenter.
He was made visible
by no shadow, shade, nor any modeling;
only the bright body of his body's light
made dark all light I knew.
O! whirring feathers, darting Dove,
that dripping twig
those drops of chrism, and—
the Christ!

—The fortieth day was spent.
He took a wild black iris between his toes
plucked it, and let it fall.
(I thought even him reluctant to give up
friendships he had found sweetly
bedded in life's bitterness.)
—“I go!
Going, I precede you.
I come
and coming, judge you by those things
in which I precede you.
Nor shall I come again till two be one:
till top be bottom; left be right;
all that which is without, within;
male with the female, each both male and female:
future and forward, past and left behind.”
And speaking, grew less tangible
than to the three on the transfigured mount.
“I have shown you my glory.
As a bee leaves the flower
I go,
but cleave a seed—I am there;
split the rock, you shall find me,
and where the lonely ones
gather together, there I am.”

I saw him stretch his arms,
I thought him tired and yawning,
but, with a shock of shame, I knew
the benediction in the attitude.
(I had not seen him die.)
We saw his wounds glow red,
the body fulminate
and Him of Fire,
mounting on subservient Seraphim
whirl, twist away.

The arms had stretched as if for flight—
the five Scars glowed—
his chest lifted as for breath,
and his heels, as if for dancing;
between, beneath his toes
the red clay clung and kissed them.—
The legs hung from the hips
a bell below the torse,
swung like a bell below the hips;
he lifted his chin in song.
The smoking robe consumed in flame:
White flames, Petals of Lilies
Lilies of Flame, Dimmed by the effulgence of the Flesh.
There, a triumphal statue with no pedestal, he stood;
then mounted higher on the air.
The footprints ringed wider
like footprints on still water
ringed, broke into stars, wings, legionary eyes.
In rushing flight about him
in spheres and disks, the Seraphim
Span, Whirled, Twisted
Flickered, Gleamed away.
Away, toward the opened Firmament
through the triangular Name above it.
Above It,
away.

—We gaped and shook our heads and gazed
after what had passed before our eyes.
He.
Not a cynic, no blasphemer
No Rabbi; not a daemon
not a devil, and no Prophet.
He.
The One, the True God, going to his Father in Heaven
as to his Mother on Earth, he came, the One, the True
the Lord.
We stared not only in wonder, not with loneliness,
feeling him with us, permanent …

“Gluttonous bees! Come forth.”
—Two Strangers sudden beside us
standing in the midst of praise.
“Forth, gluttonous bees!
Swarm!
Come from the blossomed eye
the germ of act, the seed to split the rock
forth; come forth; swarm.”

We turned and fled; not as we had fled
from that disturbed suburban orchard
not so now, we were fleeing
toward the City, not away from it.
Our heads were buffeted by Clubs, by Stones
Swords, Glaives, Knives, Saws, Spears, bit our feet.
Our blood spattered our paths.
Forward, Sideward, Backward, Forward
four pitched prone;
lay, like fallen crucifixions
a moment, then on again.

I, and the other Son of Thunder
plunged down hill
with backs bowed, with eager brows
like angelic Centaurs we saw riding
Above, Behind, Below, Before, About us
whom, Within us and Without us,
we heard shouting:
—“Rome!
to Rome,
Rome!
Go to Rome!
Go tell the Roman Synagogue.