Aporia
Noun: an expression of doubt or uncertainty;
a logical impasse or contradiction.
I: Peregrine
Adjective: having a tendency to wander
Glaring lights cast staccato silhouettes around me
as I wander dark streets.
Bovine crowds herd up and down,
night and day,
never looking up, eyes never meeting eyes,
heads bent, shame submitting to fear …
Mine.
His as well.
Vacant buildings, vacant hearts
telegraph
messages of edifice
instead of edification.
The love of self,
trapped within soulless shells,
whimpers for a way out,
finds none.
Nighttime: sordid deals trade
flesh for flesh,
sin for sin, loss for loss.
Hope, you have been gone so long …
where are you?
Addicts of bars and brothels,
porn minds and porn shops
mingle with the upwardly mobile young middle management,
exchanging defilement for defilement,
smiling crookedly, winking,
speaking the litany of self-justification:
“It’s my life …
It’s my body …
I can do what I want with it …
Amen and Amen.
(all the while thinking it to be love),
Is this who I am?
Daylight:
Little improvement –
the masks have changed …
glassy wickedness is shamed by the sun.
Concrete monuments,
garnished by glass, spined by steel,
speak mute witness of nameless wielders of pencils.
Who cares now?
Stingy plots of grass
graced by leafless trees
and vacuous statues
intend respite for the soul;
they fail.
Too little, too late.
High in the buildings,
money moves,
buyer to seller, seller to buyer,
ad infinitum, ad infinitum.
Cave videt Deus.
Is this who I am?
Money never purchased peace of mind,
certainly not for me
(but it does create a great illusion … ).
All that energy
spent
on making the dollar
on working the system
on closing the deal
on building net worth
on climbing the ladder
on playing the game
for what?
Is this who I am?
I walk the short distance to the sea,
picking my way through the flotsam of life:
The Poor
litter sidestreets and backalleys,
burnt with resentment, clogged with
bitter envy.
Rags of sorrow
dab spittle from parched lips.
Despair-glazed eyes dig in the darkness
for hope,
find none.
Why is it I feel the dread
of restive guilt?
I … didn’t make them poor.
Did I?
They disgust me. Their dirty manners
betray their dirty lives
and dirty minds.
Out of my way! I think,
proud how I never betray my thoughts with acts,
for I am restrained …
by what?
Is this who I am?
At the seawall, I look toward
something man did not create.
Small solace … it will be here far longer
than I.
And make far more difference.
Shade stands at my shoulder.
“Nice night.”
“Yes,” he answers.
“Enjoying my work?”
“Never. Your work is vile.”
Thank you. But you must admit …”
“What?”
“It is terribly effective.”
“Yes. You are masterful at what you do,
creating suffering.”
“True. I do it so well. Even in yourself.”
Something inside me cringes, twists.
“I’m tired.”
“Of what?” He knew before he asked.
“Life. It is so, so …”
“Hopeless?”
“Yes. Hopeless. I’m not amused anymore.
Tasted it, done it. Even for the places I’ve
not been, things I’ve not done. I know:
there is no hope out there
… in that place.”
“Kudos. Well done, well done. So what will you do?”
“I’ll continue. What else is there?”
“Oh, yes, persevere. Continue in your defeat,
your anger, your bitterness.
By all means,
join the rest of the tawdry little people
out there. In that place.”
I looked at him, hating him
for his frankness. He smiled.
“You are mine, you know,” he said,
“as are all of you. Squalid, tired,
messy, meaningless little people,
living circular lives.”
“Why don’t you relent!
“Have you no mercy?”
“As they say in the streets,
‘Man, that’s not my job.’”
“Cute.” The sea lapped against the seawall
reminding how long eternity is.
“Certainly …” I said, “there must be more?”
“Hardly! As you said, you have done it all.
There is nothing left. Well, you can change the scene.”
“I can’t accept that.
Man is innately good – and
that goodness must prevail.”
His black eyes danced. “Are you kidding me?
Ridiculous!” he hissed.
“Humankind will fall, consumed by its innate
Greed, lust, and avarice and pride;
By egotism and self-righteous indignation
You will,
All of you,
Pass from this world
Whimpering
Amid its ceaseless stream of See? I told you so.”
Strange how his tirade,
Did not touch the Truth and Beauty,
The Love and Faith and Commitment,
The bright stars of Joy that
wandered the streets
searching for a place to call home.
Dejected, I turned away.
“Where are you going?” said the Shade. “Back to your favorite bar?
Have one more of your favorite drinks?”
I glowered at him. He knew.
“And I suppose you’re going to try to pick up on
that cute brunette you saw the other night?”
His laughter broke the quiet sea air like glass.
Is this who I am?
My guilt has overwhelmed me,
like a burden too heavy to bear.
My wounds fester and are loathsome
because of my sinful folly.
I am bowed down and brought very low;
all day long I go about mourning.
My back is dulled with searing pain;
there is no health in my body.
I am feeble and utterly crushed;
I groan in anguish of heart.
Psalm 38:4-8
II: Gloria
Noun: a response to God
Standing on the crumbling edge,
I viewed the vastness of the Abyss
with disbelief:
This cannot be.
Yet it was, and is …
and ever shall be?
Who is to know?
I avoided this place for years,
this troublesome place … I know what it is,
but now, here I am, watching
the ones on the other side.
A curiosity: I can see them arrive,
yet they never remain.
Where do they go?
Lord! I have been jaded for so long.
Calloused.
I’ve sat here in the mocker’s chair
for more lifetimes than one.
Feet at the brink,
I looked over
never expecting into that vast and empty void
to be so terrible.
The soulless chasm rose up,
filled me with itself.
Never
have I felt such wrenching emptiness,
such abject loss,
such mourning of a life misspent.
This must be who I am.
On the far side,
clad in light,
Forever beckoned to me.
“Come,” he said.
Come to me.”
My heart longed to say yes.
Instead, “I can’t!
It … is too far … too far …
No … I … can’t!”
Despair clanged its leaden bell in my ear
again.
At my shoulder,
whispering doubt and fear,
the Shade,
purveyor of evil spoke:
“Fool, He cannot help you now,
He does not even want you.
He only wants you to fall
deeper into the Abyss.
You know,”
~he scratched his chin~
“one more tally on his scorecard.”
His words jagged holes in my heart.
On the other side,
Forever raised his arm, beckoned.
“Come,” He said.
“Come unto me
and the void shall be filled,
the shard made whole,
the Truth be known.”
The Abyss darkened and swallowed the air.
“But …
I am not ready.
I am afraid.
No, no,
it is too far …
too much to ask.”
“Not so,” said Forever.
“It is but a single step.”
“He lies,” whispered the Shade,
“He lies. Think of his scorecard.
Your soul is a hashmark.
Nothing more.”
I turned, looked into the
blackness of the eyes of
the author of lies.
Is it possible that this once,
Hope spoke the truth?
There, on the other side …
Waiting … waiting …
Hope, is that you?
Again, I looked into the Abyss.
No,
this is my life.
This is who I am.
On the other side,
His patience like a light,
Forever waited.
Compelling,
so compelling …
I asked,
“Are you truly the Son of God?”
“Yes. It is so.
Come,
Come and know my Peace,
For you are weary and heavy~laden.
Come, and take my Yoke
Upon your shoulders.
We will carry it together.”
Aching from the darkness etched into my empty soul,
drained by the eons of my guilt and sin,
I had come to the end.
I wanted only to be done.
Able no longer to bear my own existence,
exhausted by the pursuit of my grail of clay,
I stepped …
Hands reached,
grasped my own.
His scars seemed to glow with love.
Tears welled.
“You have done that for me?”
“Yes. It was for you.”
It was not grief or shame that
fell me to my knees
and loosed my tears,
but grace I had never known.
“I am so unworthy …”
“True. But that is not the reason.”
“Then why?”
“Because I love you.”
Tears fell,
gave way to gasping sobs as
understanding unfolded:
it was His Sacrifice
alone
that rendered the depth,
the breadth,
the length,
the height
of Love itself.
His Song of Love
rang out,
filled my soul,
healed my heart,
and enfolded me in arms of Grace.
Tears, unabated,
unashamed,
fell and fell
and fell.
Forever lifted me,
embraced me in loving arms.
That which I had sought for a lifetime
I now found in utmost simplicity:
it was the Love of God.
“Jesus, my friend …?
“Yes?”
“What now?”
His smile warmed my heart.
“Follow me.”
I had crossed the Abyss.
Looking back,
I saw the Darkness raging,
summoning my soul in
futility.
I wondered,
Why, why had I not crossed before?
Glancing a last time at
The lover of death,
I began to understand.
As I looked upon the Path that now lay
before us,
upon the face of Forever who walked beside me
and felt His hand in mine,
I knew.
I tell the truth, whosoever hears
my word and believes in Him who
sent me, has eternal life and
will not be condemned.
He has crossed over from death to life.
John 5:24