The dying body chronicles 10: the gospel according to pessimism
Let my children keep their words,
Let the good fight find them,
Let the earth be their salt,
Let all gods be possible.
08123445454 is the number. Call when the day is black & the sun rots in the bowels of the earth. I will be sitting beside my phone, smoking a cigarette, staring at the empty glass, wishing for a drink. Call me then & i will answer.
Let gods scatter like wild flowers,
Let sinners be equally yoked with us,
Let heaven enter the rich & the needle
Pass into the eye of the camel.
Is this possible? Is it this easy to get a man to lay down on the floor & die? I mean, he said nothing. He just took off his shoes, his trousers, his shirt & naked as the day he was born, he let his body be. It was so strange, the quiet of the process. It was not a ritual sacrifice. It was not done in a hidden, dark corner of the world. They were no men hidden behind cowls & hoods. It was a bright morning. Birds still chirped, crickets almost ending their chorus, dogs still barked & cocks still strutted in their awful crows. It was an ordinary day like any other; a good day to die. He just took off his clothes & let his body be.
Let god descend & their enemies attack,
Let lucifer arise & the music begin again,
Let the temple cloth be mended
On a lonely tailor’s laps,
Let the beast slouch back into the sea.
We did not really want to go. I mean, we dressed & did our makeup & all that but we were not inclined to be at the party. We knew Gerald very well. His parties were often boring affairs. I had Netflix shows to binge on, Ronnie had their cake contract to complete, Tess’ man friend was in town & the dog was eating the pillows again. There was so much to do at home than be at a boring party but we went anyway. We put on our heels, boarded an Uber taxi & that was it. We did not see the news after but i can speculate three prostitutes known to frequent Nemesis Night club have gone missing. They were last seen leaving a party near the British embassy on Friday the 14th of February. I doubt if the search for us went further than that. I wonder if my father ever saw the news bulletin, if from his pulpit his hands shook as he called his god on high. I doubt that. He has always been good at stamping out emotions.
Let the meek inherit nothing but blood,
Let the sun never darken the sky,
Let the flood recede back into the grave,
Let Magdalene be also blessed among women.
See a child rise from the muck of morning, unwashed, hungry, angry, thirsty & cruel upon the earth. See it become a beast in the muck of morning, unchained, uncertain & unknown. It snatches a purse, a wallet, a stick of gum from the muck of morning, in this uncertain world, in this callous earth. Where is comfort for it? Where is comfort for those that it would wound in its desperation to be human, to be seen? See this child, unnamed, unknown, bent at the waist, bowed at the spine, broken at the lip. See it struggle into sunlight, a shoot rusty at the tips, almost dead with the weight of all those yesterdays that did not say yea & amin to its prayers. See it struggle to the edge of the pool, stare at its mishmashed, wobbly reflection, & wait for a miracle. See hope flee its rancid eyes. See it rise from the muck of morning; name itself something akin to divinity, a martyr’s name, something alien to peace, something to be cruel upon. See its terror & pain & how willing it is to share. See it. Please see it.
Let the blessed in spirit be poor,
Let the summer trees wander,
Let the blue skies call god,
Let my father house be full of mansions,
Toy mansions, paintings of mansions,
Poems & stories of mansions; lies.
I have always lied to myself; one day i will be better, i will do better. I have not been able to be good. It is difficult leaving pleasure for pain. Do you understand? I have to make myself forgo & forget the things that i find pleasurable for those things that i do not desire. How does one live like that? I mean, look at the sun? Do you ever wonder how boring it is to rise in the same place & set in the same place every day? Do you not think that it too want to just lie all day & sleep? Do you think the moon enjoys being the only one out in that cold empty night? Yet the things they must see each day & night though. We make it entertaining for them with our many petty wars. They find some new drama each & everyday. I wonder what they discuss in the solar system mess hall? What do you think is going to happen at that town in Nigeria where that man is preparing to sell his father’s land? Do you think he would go ahead with it? They would probably argue about it. The stars will put on their glasses to see better being older & further & all that. Maybe that is why they show up every day & night. It is the best excuse i have for binging on this television series when i am supposed to be thinking of how to get someone to buy my father’s land.
Let the end come to a world,
Let the moon cast no shadows on the sun,
Let the fall go before their pride &
Let each & every tale find a better end. Yeah & amin.