Once upon a time the Treasure of the world entire told a story about treasure in a field, treasure within treasure, a kingdom in a kingdom in a seemingly arbitrary object, a field of the whole world

I remember when these angry men were children, lovable children, and now they behave as though they still don’t know

You are the treasure

The King and his Kingdom is the treasure.

And if that were not enough, what will a man do if he (gains the whole world)

And loses his own soul?


We live in other rooms

The sun inhales deep, swims down, down to us through a drowned world of trees, still our guardian angels, bright fish dart among them, impersonating song birds, the children are not safe here anymore

As ordinary men huddle and cast lots

for the seamless robe of


The Harrowing of Hell

We ask liturgical questions, why must the dead pretend they are anything else, here in the depths of the world where we have waited so long? We resemble our former selves, only shadows now, constructing chalk outlines of the world which has gone on without us

When he breaks through we watch in awe, chalk outlined arms raised, like children who must be helped into

The clothing of this beautiful



He has found a little stream, dips his feet into the water away from all the others. When I ask him about all he has lost, he shrugs as if to say

Lost wife

Lost country

Lost king

Lost friends

But he has new friends now, even among the children and grandchildren and great grandchildren of his erstwhile wife.

He recites these my-life-for-yours words as if the man who wrote them had written them for him…

….He that is first in his own cause seemeth just; but his neighbour cometh and searcheth him. [18] The lot causeth contentions to cease, and parteth between the mighty. [19] A brother offended is harder to be won than a strong city: and their contentions are like the bars of a castle. [20] A man’s belly shall be satisfied with the fruit of his mouth; and with the increase of his lips shall he be filled. [21] Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof. [22] Whoso findeth a wife findeth a good thing , and obtaineth favour of the Lord . [23] The poor useth intreaties; but the rich answereth roughly. 24] A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly:

…there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.

Let us wait here, darling

Until he comes.


Days before the Passover lamb, John the Baptist mends her long robe, pours oil over wounds with words which make sense only to the dead, faith the fire we warm our hands by,

Let me in, let me in says the moon and the wind, let me in to the stillness of everlasting, as even now the children begin to

Lay down their outer garments, their palm branches, as we all sing, hosanna, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.

We are close now, so close .