Inferno Song 2: The Forester’s Story

Hardly a word between us,
just the wolf tracing our movements.
Day left slowly, becoming dusk
and I thought, here too we are bound
by the sky and the stars
and as we went I faltered,
Why this journey?
I did not ask for it, am no pilgrim,
rather one who aims, but dares not shoot
or clenches and then unclenches,
always threatened by the folly of fear
or the soft slide into weariness.

We stopped at a beck to drink
and she looked at me and said,
“I will tell you what drove me to meet you.”
What? I looked at her.
“I have worked with many people,
family people and work people,
sick people, mad people, many with great minds,
people of your time, people of other times.”
I thought – you, a forester?
“But I have always felt in them
a fear of that which escapes us
and seems so easily false.
Each one of my people,
each one, seemed to fear the open road
and always to ensconce themselves
in some hiding place or comfort,
or corner of great esteem.
One, the great matriarch,
always the wise bosom of the family,
the laughter and the get-togethers.
Another the good speaker,
romantic, carried aloft by the power of his words,
and the pleasure of transporting others.
A third, an influential editor,
choosing this script and that play,
a vivid song, an epic poem of the past,
directing from behind the scenes.
And then the leader of political meetings,
of media and strategy,
talking to the generals to make them decide,
questioning the bureaucrats on their dedication
to the nation.
These people I tell you of are the fear about me.
They are why I am caught
in this always necessary aloneness
and the apparent mistake of life.   

It began one evening, it was late,
I was at home and all had left,
I stood looking into the dark of the evening night sky.
I heard a sound – a knock at the door,
quiet, and then again.
At this time of night, I thought,
who can that be, a neighbour at this hour?
I went down and unlocked the door.
It was a woman, careful and polite, but open,
and with a powerful sense of purpose.”

“You,” she addressed me, “forgive me
for coming at this late hour.
I have a friend who is in great danger.  

Could you –

I am afraid I am too late to help him –
but, could you help me to,
would you go to him?”
I thought, who is she?
“Why do you come here to ask me?” I said.
“Because I believe you have a way beyond the ordinary.”
“But you do not know me.”
“I do.
When I was small you knew my father.            
– I have been so desperate –
you lifted me up once in the garden
and, as unknowing as I was
the words you spoke
I have never forgotten.

Tonight is 13th December,
it is Lucia
                  and he is encased in darkness.
Only your window showed light in this black alley.”

Woman! I thought, have you no fear?
She: “I believe –“
Me: “Do not say that.”
“I hold dear this man,
and I have not heeded his terrible cries.
Death tears at him, cuts his fibres,
breeds only weariness in his heart.
I have sought you out,        
not of my own will.
I do not know where he is,
just that he has been thrown down
to a place all men deny.”
She stopped, and looked at me, then said,
“A greater woman has lifted me up in her arms
And I am here to ask you.”

The forester looked at me.
“So now you know
                                and I may not falter
when all the strength of womanhood        
lays her arms about me.”

Like a wilting plant given water,
I rose.
I said, “Yes,”
and thought, my time has come.