Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Last Wish

 As I lay dying,
I turned to the Father of my Father.
I asked;

Lord, you know all things,
and I know that you love me.
You have blessed me with a life abundant.
All my ways have been blessed,
my efforts never waged in vain. 
But this still I hold in wonder,
and bring to you now;

I am old now, 
and all I want is to drink from the cup of memory,
to dwell in my many merry moments gone by.
Why do they remain hidden from me?
Forever it has been this way. 
I know I was once born from out of my mother, 
but where is that experience, 
where is that charm?

Long ago in time it was lost to me. 
Maybe from the beginning it was so. 
I long to reflect upon the day I met my bride,
to observe the smile on her face, 
to touch the fabric that covered her body,
to smell her youth and joy,
but this too you have hidden from me.


Therein I waited on my back. Helpless.
In mercy, the voice of the one I love 
came to me.

Such a voice echoed in my ears.

Little child,
do you remain still so blind, 
still so lacking in discretion?
Are you so stupidly brave,
as to believe they were yours to take hostage?
The day of your birth,
do you dare claim its ownership?
Did your mother not weep at your coming?
Did your father not falter in his knees?
Did your brother not boast to his friends?
Did your sister not pester to see your form firsthand?
Should you steal away the day from them,
in your greed do you dare keep it for yourself?

I sighed, knowing in my heart the words soon to follow.
The voice continued,

Little child,
I gave you life, 
why are you not yet content?
The world 
and all that is in it 
is mine. 

My ears went deaf then. 

Knowing my time was running short, I dared further,

Lord, you know all things,
and I know that you love me. 
Time and tide are not mine,
they are not pieces for purchase.
Knowing this now,
I ask,
I plead,
I beg,
Would you give me just one memory?
One to know completely 
-- in and out and between --
Can I hold just one moment in my soul,
so that I can 
once again
that beauty which I knew?
I beg for this mercy from 
the Keeper of Promise
and Holder of all Reason.

I exhaled and waited. 

Many nights I waited longingly.

Then I smelled his presence.
My ears heard nothing,
but my mind perceived the message.

Little child,
I love you, 
and to this I shall always remain.
If you received what you ask for,
if a moment you could embrace,
if time was a compass in your hand,
if the sun set on your command,
so that you could fully know the breadth of one instant,
then you would cease to see
cease to hear
cease to taste
cease to touch 
cease to smell.
You would be devoured, 
precious child
you would not survive. 
You would be master of that place,
and your soul would grow ever dim.
Above all, you would love the moment,
and although you thought you were its arbiter,
of this idol you would never cease to worship. 

I shuddered. 
Another presence entered. I could taste its odor on my tongue. 
My breath quivered and I began to gasp for air. For strength. 
I could feel the second presence pressing in on me,
decaying the last of my being. 
I shuddered.
I could then see him,
the Father of my Father.
and he comforted me, 

If I gave this to you,
if you really had it,
you would feel everything that could be felt.
This burden is too much for you, 
O' Little Child. 
I have forever kept time in motion, 
for there is not a point in time's turning, 
that a child does not go hungry,
that a heart does not break,
that a soul does not turn dark,
that the earth does not groan. 
I have hidden deep memory from you,
My Son, 
so that you could know mercy,
accept grace,
and be reborn

rest now.
I closed my eyes

and died.


  1. ahhhhhh how so very lovely. What a well-said description of aching. ah.

    (I found this quote to post on your "scents of 2011", but I'll share it here instead):
    "Aimer, c'est avoir du plaisir à voir, toucher, sentir par tous les sens, et d'aussi près que possible un objet aimable qui nous aime."
    - Stendhal

    (Love is finding pleasure in seeing, touching, feeling through all the senses, being as close as possible to a lovable object that loves us.)

  2. j'aime toi, ma fille:)