Poetry for
People, Dragons
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The
Prometheid
(1972)
Part
IV
Eli's Journey down
the River Styx
"Search
for the twelve mourning pipes, the river known as
Styx,"
Said the bald
Apathian rhetorics.
These words turned
over and over in Eli's mind
Whilst he drove in
search of a brotherhood,
Who'd help resist
the Lotus-eaters who stood
As Tyrants over the
people he left behind.
Eli
drove until he left the cliff-gripping groves
Behind and
approached now shadowy sea coves,
Where night crept
slowly around the bends from a blackening sea;
And great waters he
dreamed he'd never find
Lapped with pearly
caps the beach entwined
By the rolling
breakers drumming the rocks eternally.
Eli
drove quickly into a very lonely cove,
Parked his truck,
and to the icy waters he dove.
The songs of bards,
champions on horses quickly shod,
Never confessed to
these beaches of freezing brine;
Making Eli feel
eerie with shivers running up his spine.
Thought the lad,
"This sunless cove is very odd!"
"Well,
no matter," he pondered, "perhaps some shells
I'll find on these
clam filled strands." So he fled the swells
And, with wet
clammy sand ebbing between his toes,
He stepped down the
beach, hardly seeing through the void.
"What's this?" he
declared to a clam below, "the beach is destroyed.
I see rocks,
hundreds just arose!"
He
stumbled over the rocks, then stumps of trees
Thrust from the
oily deep like gaunt refugees
Of war standing in
line waiting for death.
He walked more. A
silver glow struck his eye,
He stooped down
and, behold a conch shell did lie
At his feet. He
took it with trembling breath.
Eli
held the conch shell high so to see
Its polished form,
but, alas, too dark he
Couldn't see the
bony pink insides, a gift from the deep.
He held it to his
mouth and blew an awful sound.
The whitened trump
too made his flesh creep.
Then
he saw more conch shells below a cliff
And gathered as
many as he could lift.
He took a blanket
from his pick-up truck
And fashioned a
cradle of woody-dry sand
Gathered further up
the beach of that sun-stripped land.
He slept. Dawn's
dainty fingers stroked him and on to life he
struck.
Rays
from emerald waters burned through his dream
And brought Eli
from death to its extreme.
Eli rubbed his
eyes, wiping sand tears,
And then he
stretched his aching young frame
Happy at his
awakening again.
He gazed to sea,
seeing what looked like piers.
What
had been the stumps of trees the night past
Were not but stakes
and posts – and a sunken mast –
From a fort night's
battle which pitched the dead
And rotting remains
of the warriors in their bliss,
Stretched over a
barbed wire and concrete abyss,
Bunkers, rocks,
bleaching bones, the heroes' death's bed.
Behold!
Cradled in the sand nearby
Were not pink conch
shells gathered by Eli
But the skulls of
warriors and broken laws
With gaping sockets
staring from the past!
"Aghh!" cried Eli,
wiping his mouth, aghast:
He'd blown a tune
through those empty jaws!
He
looked at the cliffs, whitened as chalk,
And saw a stream
flow from above a rock,
Where bones
cascaded over its crest.
From the foaming
torrent, plunging in sheets
Of milky dew from
Mother Nature's teats,
Showered skulls of
multitudes, all gaping in jest.
Eli
climbed up to the source of the stream
Which recalled a
vision in his last night's dream:
This was the mouth
of the river called Styx,
For near its
entrance were twelve long stalactites,
Hanging on the wall
like an organ's pipes,
Arrayed in the
cave's dripping pearly niche.
A
wind came from the depths across the stone
Pipes, strumming
them to make a Jews Harp tone,
Like low pitched
hummings of primitive flutes
Calling the Kiwi to
their native dance.
The chamber caught
him in his awed advance
And pulled him
further towards its deep inner roots.
Eli
plunged into the dripping cavern,
Hearing increasing
dripping around each turn;
He took a torch
from the nearby wall,
Set it afire so to
see the path and way,
And stepped into
the dark to find a clay
Pitcher where
dripping water came to fall.
And
above his eyes stood a giant, sweating guard
On a ledge which
was very heavily scarred.
Behind him was a
heavy iron door
Which emitted
blasts of steam and heat
So powerful that
the ground there burned Eli's feet
And made him
perspire, soaking from every pour.
The
guard sweated also, so much at his duty,
That briny moisture
dripped from his body
To the pitcher on
the ground, its stench in tow.
And behold! From
the pitcher flowed the stream:
The great Styx
poured from the pitcher's broken seam
In such volume it
must overflow.
Indeed,
the river Styx flowed from the cracked jar
Down two tiny
opposing channels, quite bizarre,
With one branch
flowing behind the guard's door
And the other
between Eli's legs and on to the sea.
Eli asked the Guard
about this mystery
Who replied, "So it
will flow forevermore!"
"What
are you guarding, Oh gatekeeper?" asked Eli.
The guard flexed
his oiled muscles, all rippling thereby,
Over his naked form
like unto a rock's
Own ripples when
thrown into a calm creek.
"I am the first
gatekeeper over the meek
And strong, the
living and the dead, all the flock!
"I
am the First Gatekeeper of Anki;
I am the keeper of
the Eternal Sea;
I am the guard of
Mother Nature's joint;
I am the guard of
guards, between heaven and earth;
I guard the dying
and the yet in birth.
Thy Father's stream
I am charged to anoint."
The
guard thereupon kneeled with a huge gourd
And drank from the
Styx whose torrent now roared,
Since the guard
began perspiring once again.
"Oh Great
Gatekeeper, I seek brotherhood
Which lies down
this torrent called the Styx. Would you be good
And let me through
the door so that I may go in?"
"You
know," answered the guard, "The passage's risk,
That one passage
leads to Kur's basilisk?"
Eli shook his head,
"Sir, of this I know not,"
And the Gatekeeper
with more candor replied,
"In heaven and
earth's juncture you abide;
You are in heaven,
in earth, and hell's knot.
"Behind
this door is life for faultless men
Or, (he smiled)
death in the Basilisk's den!"
Eli was still
puzzled. "But sir," he said,
"What is the
Basilisk?" The guard was shocked
Over this naive lad
who'd unknowingly walked
Into life's womb
and death's bed.
The
guard had received only souls before
Who are come from
mortality to his door
To await their
judgment and reckoning.
Now he had no way
of knowing Eli
Was a mere mortal
who yet had to fly
Mortal bonds in
God's final beckoning.
So
fine is the margin between death and life
That the guardian
of the heavenly rife
Had failed to see
that it was not Eli's soul
Before his feet but
a mortal being!
So he replied, "The
Styx leads to life's spring
Where the Tree of
Life shall nourish your soul.
"Or,
if you should follow its lower fork
You will find the
Basilisk's fiery fork
Strike upon your
damned soul, if so it be!"
The guard slowly
opened the steaming iron door,
As its weight made
him strain against the floor.
"Go!" he roared,
"To Death or Eternity!"
As
he opened the door, skulls floated out
Into the stream's
reception hall to spout
Beyond the guard's
bare feet toward the sea.
Eli was truly
scared. "Fear not," said the kindly guard,
"It is only the
dead who have been barred
From the fire and
sowed to redie in yonder quay.
"You
see, they are to be the Living Dead
Who must now relive
all they have done and said!"
Cried the giant
midst the infernal stream's roar.
"Your soul seems
pure," he added, "and I doubt you'll be caught
In the inferno and
will find the way which Christ bought."
Eli stepped in
behind the clanging, closing door.
Iron
upon iron, hammer and anvil echoing over and over,
Rang behind Eli, as
he peered into a steaming moor,
Where the river
Styx wound through its choking mist.
It was so hot there
Eli shed his clothes and stepped
Nudely into the
Nether world's great depths.
Then a boat loomed
near which he almost missed.
Eli
approached the dock and boarded to sail
In a tiny skiff
which now pierced far off heaven's veil.
The skiff drifted
until the mist grew thin
And, shivering from
a cooling new breeze,
Eli donned a piece
of sailcloth near his knees.
At that moment he
reached another gate captioned, "Sin."
Two
other boats waited before the gate
And the gatekeeper
there cried, "Halt! You must wait
Until the word is
given to proceed!"
Eli came about and
waited as he was told;
The gate opened, a
boatman set sail and poled.
As the door closed
screams echoed from his deed.
The
other boat was let sail through the gate
While its boatman
prayed for an easier fate.
The door again
closed to screams of terror.
Eli waited. Then
the guard motioned, "next,"
And Eli's boat
slipped through the abyss of the hexed
Where truths long
passed hovered to challenge each mariner.
The
river parted at the chamber's end,
Where two more
gates loomed at the river's oxbow bend.
Eli had seen the
horrors once before,
Well described and
lived through Aeneas' book,
And, accordingly,
he was not afraid to look
Upon the hellish
torments and burning gore.
So
he held the helm stoutly and ignored the sight
Which swirled from
the man-eating water's the faint in freight,
And fixed his young
eyes upon the right gate.
The preceding boat
fared not quite as well,
For the boatman's
guilt sent him into hell
As he was blinded
by all the horrors of his own hate.
And
where the boiling waters became two
Streams at the
river's bend, the first boat flew
Forward, into the
lower channel's gate of fire,
And in screaming
pain the boatman was thrown
Into the hole below
the mountain's cone,
Where Aeneas tended
hell's ceaseless pyre.
Shielding
his arm from the lower door's heat,
Eli bent his skiff
to the right in retreat
And drifted into
the reed-filled waters
Of a crystal clear
lake and a meadow's rills,
What appeared to be
the journey's end, and Eli released the till
And stepped into
that field's flowery care.
The
grass and flowers were knee deep, a very delight,
With nature's
colors, all against a Prussian blue sky.
Then, appearing
like some porcelain white faced dolls
Stood some people
at an emerald lodge.
Yes! The mansion
was made from emeralds corded like logs;
The gems were
nearly as long as you are tall!
Like
a highland thatched hunting lodge, though crystal
green,
Stood this island
mansion midst its heavenly desmense.
Gazing upon its
roofing of bronze-red tiling,
This strange
chateau and of fiefdom feel
Left Eli in a mood
so genteel
He floated over the
moor, arms outstretched and quite beguiling.
He
approached the mansion to stand in line
Waiting to enter
that lodge so divine.
All were silent,
standing in awe to hear
Murmurings and
pleas from the deeper emerald corridors.
The line shriveled,
Eli stepped through the doors,
Behold! He faced
the First Examiner!
The
Examiner scanned through a fiery book
And waved Eli by
with nary a look
Or sound. Eli
stepped by to the courtyard
And took a stone
seat near a weeping lass.
Deigning to know
where he was, Eli asked,
"Lass, where are we
and why are you crying so hard?"
She
didn't speak, only wiping her tears the more.
"I seek the
Stereotypes, maybe they're of your corps?"
He whispered, but,
alas, she still spoke not.
With no answer
forthcoming, he turned away
And scanned the
green marbled courtyard silently.
The lass spoke,
"Beyond that gate is the lot."
Eli
bade his thanks and approached the gate
Which was made out
of Mother of Pearl and jade.
Beyond was a yacht
preparing to sail
And people were
boarding her in great glee.
He returned to the
lass, feeling the jubilee,
"Be happy lass,"
said he, "It should be a divine sail."
The
lass shook her beautiful blue-black locks,
"No, you are wrong,
I shall tread not those docks,
For the yacht sails
with only the good,
The Stereotypes
whom you said you seek.
It is not my ship;
mine lies waiting; I'm weak
And cannot join
your ship of Brotherhood."
"But
why?" queried the alarmed Eli, "for you are lovely
to me
You appear so
gentle, the height of beauty."
But she sighed, "My
past revealed, claimed the Book,
Commissioned me to
Salvation's Halfway House;
I shall sail
tomorrow, after I douse
My sins in the
sorrows I forsook!"
"Oh,
lass," cried Eli, "Your agony I would share
If I could. You are
so helpless and yet so fair,
Your suffering I
could not bare. He held
Her satin
damask-shrouded hands and saw in her wet eyes
The picture of his
lost love, that her cries
Echoed from his
heart where his future dwelled.
"I
know you," he answered. "You are Anna, my queen
hence;
You are the queen
of my new innocence!
I see the mirror in
your pond-like eyes
As my bride to be!
Anna we are one!"
The lass despaired,
"The weaver of fate is not yet done!
I am not yet your
prize!"
"What
are you saying?" asked Eli, "Are we not one
Now? Are we not
merged hand in hand? It is done!"
Two hands gripped
each other, an attendant came to them
Saying, "Come Eli,
it is time to go."
Eli cried, "But I
can't leave this chateau
Without Anna!" He
pleaded, "No, no, she's not condemned!"
Eli
squeezed Anna's hand one more time, bade her
goodbye
And sadly rose from
the bench to comply
With the command to
join his brotherhood.
He went through the
gate to the sleek, fleet yacht,
And boarding the
ship thereupon sought
To get help from
the Stereotype of leadership good.
Yet,
the ship sailed away as if in a dream;
Angelic souls
strolled the decks from beam to beam.
Eli questioned one
man who bore a scar
Across his chest
and beneath his white robe,
"Where are we
going?" The man smiled, pulled his earlobe,
And replied, "To
heaven, bliss; just over there, not far."
"Are
you a true Stereotype?" asked Eli.
"No," replied the
kind soul with a deep sigh,
"It is not I. Over
there are those you seek."
Eli approached the
other side and spoke of his hopes,
Telling them of the
Lotus-eaters, the dopes,
The plague, hatred,
the noxious reek.
The
Stereotypes said nothing until Eli
Finished. Then they
smiled, saying, "Oh, Eli,
It is sad, sad
indeed; oh, my, alas, alas;
We are mere
paragons of virtue lad!
We can do nothing
for you; believe us, we are so sad
We can't help you
rid your land of the hateful morass!"
Eli
was shocked: "But why? I was told you could,
That you, above
all, practiced brotherhood!"
The kind men smiled
all together, "Aye, it is true;
But we are mere
symbols now, an ethereal light;
We're not mortal,
we can't help you in your fight!
If we could we
would for we love you."
You
must go back home to your mortal realm;
You can do no good
here because of our ship's helm.
Hurry, jump, make
haste before the gate comes,
Or you will be
caught in the Heavenly Gauss!"
Cried an old man,
and Eli jumped across
The deck and over
the side, to the roll of Heavenly Drums.
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Launched
10.25.97; updated 11.1.97; 5.27.2000; 3.17.05;
10.26.06; 5.29.14
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© 1997-2014 Maravot. All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1997-2014 Mel Copeland. All rights
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