He
waits
Out there, in the night
Prowling about
I know his
voice by now, out of the cacophony of this alien jungle
Something
between a growl and a scream
So arrogant, so male
'Everyone
listen! Here I am!' He is
Only an animal, a beast
For all they
call him holy, the people here
Holy… well they are simple folk,
after all
Needing guidance
Lost in primitive superstition.
The
Bishop
Tried to dissuade me, imagine!
When I said that I would
come
When I asked for the hardest task, the most remote mission
I
wanted to prove myself, you see
I knew my faith was strong, has
always been strong
I wanted to give myself, really give myself
totally…
To God, of course, to my vocation
'But Sister,
think of the danger!'
Silly man, for all he is a Bishop. What if
no one else would go?
We had a mission there once
There are
souls that need saving; would Saint Paul not go?
I have as much
faith as any man, and as much courage
So I am here
Somewhere in
South America, I forget the name
Small print on faded maps… It
is this place
It is where I am, in this jungle,
Awful heat and
leaves and hanging vines
And green, so green, everywhere you
look
The village is small and where it ends
There is this wall
of green, the jungle
As if it were waiting, always waiting
Do
you know, my first day here
Climbing up from the jetty with my
bag,
Along a trail you'd think a goat had made
Around a bend I
came upon
A creature, a kind of leopard
Or no, I think they
call it a jaguar
The people here have some Indian name for it
They think it a god, can you believe?
And it sat there,
he sat there, right in the path
Of course, he would
have to be male, such arrogance
As if he owned the place and what
was I doing
On his path, well I said shoo! Or something
Rather
loudly I suppose
He just sat there, staring
You aren't supposed
to look them in the eyes
Those eyes
Green, so green, wells of
green fire , lit from within
And I was falling, drowning…alone
I
was alone upon the path
It…he…had gone
Silently
It is
silent now
I mean, well, of course it is never silent, here , in
the night
Calls and whistles and cries from creatures
Hunting
and hiding and having…that day
That first day, arriving at the
village
Dusty and hot
As if a cluster of mud huts could be
called…
And the little whitewashed chapel
Half ruined and
neglected
The door sagging open onto darkness
I made them fix
it, the few who came
One spoke a civilized tongue, passably
So
the Sisters who had been here before had not been
Entirely idle.
Miriam, her name was Miriam
Or some unpronounceable Indian
thing
Why did they go, the ones here before,
I said at last,
for the Bishop
Only spoke of danger Oh she said
They go, he
not want
Who I said but she looked away
Miriam, I said, I want
to know. One of the others
Gabbled something looking up
Toward
the hills, a heap of stones, or something
Catching the light, the
last light of the sun
What is that I said pointing
His place
she said, mumbled, and then something else
A word, all clicks and
grunts…
He is still there he
Made that sound again, that
cry,
Halfway between a growl and a scream
Hunting
Is he,
hunting? You would think
It would scare all the creatures away,
that cry
But perhaps they only stop
Where they are, unable to
move unable
To do anything but wait in the moonlight
For him
to come
That first night
We had a service
The half dozen or
so who came
They had almost forgotten their responses
I had to
help them, disgraceful
Toward the end I noticed someone, a
man
Standing outside watching
As I gave out the wine and wafers
one by one
At the final Amen he came in
A little man well they
are all little here
Bone necklaces and things, obviously
someone
Of consequence, an elder the others
Moved aside, heads
down for all the world
Like children surprised at some naughty
game
Yes? I said, looking down at him he pointed
To the
remaining wafers he gabbled something
Sorry, I don't understand I
said he
Gestured impatiently to Miriam
Adding something else
when she hesitated
Priest say what is food she said
Priest? I
said This man is a priest?
Not like you said Miriam
frightened
Hunting desperately for words
Priest of…again that
word
Clicks and grunts and at the end
A little purring sound
He spoke then, sharply
Tell him I said
It is the body of
our God
And this, pointing to the chalice for him to see
Is His
blood
It impresses them you see usually
But this man, this
shaman or whatever
Well it was like when you make mud
pies
Children playing and a grownup comes
He
Smiled then
and said something else
And left What was that I said
But
Miriam only shook her head helplessly
No words she said, scared
Out of her wits well what can you expect?
I prayed that
night
Under the netting in the heat
And it came to me
That
temple, holy place to them if I
Went to it, showed my God was
stronger
Unafraid…Miriam I said next day
I want to go there
and I pointed
Up to the hill where the stones were
Is there a
path I said and finally
Made her show me
Wouldn't come of
course
Scared, the lot of them but as I climbed the path
upward
Saw them following and smiled…
This endless
night
Does he never sleep?
Moaning, moaning now
I know it's
him
Out there beyond the light
Of this feeble lantern green
flash of eyes
Alone is he lonely No! Only an animal, a
beast
Prowling about one's imagination plays tricks that is all
It
was not a name that sound
Not a name
We
Reached the place
at last
Reared up from the jungle round about
Rough pyramid of
huge stone blocks
With a doorway unto darkness
They
Were
all there, I could feel their eyes upon me
Well enough to imagine
courage but at length
I went in
Dimly lit from somewhere,
some opening overhead
Clean at least, swept out, well of
course
They would take care of such a holy place
With the
thought came anger there
Was a block of stone a sort of alter
With
a little image, rough pottery
Him, it was him!
Green, green
eyes of malachite
Sitting there like some God
Mouth
open laughing
I felt as some Old Testament prophet
Jeremiah,
someone like that
I dashed it to the floor, the image
Broke
into fragments one malachite eye
Staring still at me they made a
sound outside
Like wind, wind in the trees, moaning
Outside
where they stood watching
I ground it all to powder with my foot
See I cried my God…and he
Was standing there in the
doorway
That same little man
Looked at the ruin of his pagan
god and smiled
Actually smiled, raised a finger
Brought poor
Miriam, stumbling in as though
Tied to a rope poor thing, her
hands
Over her face he
Looked up at me, still smiling said
something
Sounds back in the throat, clicks and grunts
And
that word with the little purr at the end
Then gestured sharply to
Miraim
Priest he say she managed to gasp out
This place for
you…
So I had won, after all, triumphant
I smiled down at
him, at all of them
He smiled back for all the world as if
We
shared some little secret, he and I
Gestured to the broken
fragments of his god
And said something, bowed, and turned to
go
What was that? I asked Oh said Miriam
And there was awe,
awe
In her face as she looked up at me
Priest say, he still
here
Nearer now and made that cry again
Something like a scream
and roar together
And then a moment of absolute
stillness
As if this whole dark jungle held its breath
Waiting
for some answer
I will not listen I will say the prayers…
Droned
litany of unfelt words
That once were magic, once…
It took
half the day, to bring my things up here
Along with the cross and
alter cloth
They did whatever I asked
To make this place my
chapel
Just like the early missionaries building churches
Over
the stones of some bloodstained pagan shrine
And then we held
The
first service here, as the sun was setting
Flooding the little
stone porch and alter
With its dying ruby glow
I sang
The
final hymn loudly, triumphantly then turned about
To find they had
all gone, every one
Their candles dying in an empty room
And
now it is dark, too dark to find my way
Even if he were not out
there, waiting
Prowling about this ancient place
His place why
am I here oh why
I do not belong here then oh why
Does he make
that sound, that moaning
It is not a name, it is not my name he
calls
No it is the name of someone small
Someone little and
dark who does not dress
In vestments such as these
Well I shall
take them off and he shall see
The moonlight bright upon my body
I
am not the bride he seeks, no
It is someone else
Brought here,
prepared for him
Offered to him, the chosen one
Now I stand in
the doorway
Rough stone warm beneath my feet
He calls again I
see his eyes
Glowing like two moons
Greener than malachite
One
step I take as all the jungle holds its breath
Waiting as he
waits
I raise my arms as she did
That other one, so long ago
Is
it her longing I feel or is it mine
I do not know for we are
one
We walk forward into the darkness
Toward eyes of green fire
twin moons that burn
His name
I speak his name, deep in the
back of my throat
With the little purr at the end
And he
answers
His voice
Fills all the night and all my being
One
step more
And I am his