The Apocalypse of John

I.

We gather at church door

For a body, and perhaps

This is creak of Last Day,

Ten of us, eyes downcast,

Behold! A universe in pavement cracks;

I hold a Word in my hands – Eleison –

I whisper, In God, nothing is ever truly lost,

But already a Seal

Is broken and I am sick

Of rain and storm, and pale horse,

And pale horse comes to my door

And perhaps this is the Last Day,

And rain, and rain, and angels

Silent in Heaven, and dare I believe

In God, nothing is ever truly lost?

II.

A body dies and I sing Requiem,

Man hath but a short time to live,

Man hath but the validity of material things!

Requiem is black universe,

Word is gravity,

Body is praise!

III.

Yet to find one’s final form,

Surely that’s the meaning

Of spes contra spem?

The ashes of a neighbour wait

In my study for burial in a garden

Of grit and peonies and loam,

Soon to be carried a final time,

Soon to be earthbound,

A statement in ontology.

Ecstatic. Cool. Unravelled.