Doubting, read what this fabled history teaches,
how the firework, Imagination, reaches high
to dignify and sanctify.
You need not, granddaughter, be religious
to learn what Judges, Kings, Prophets, yield,
thought-lanterns for Lifes darker field,
moral lies of piety and poetry.
You need not, granddaughter, hosanna heroes:
this wily shepherd, that bloodthirsty tough;
yet applaud the bulrush child
who, when offered gold, chose the coal.
Satisfied, the tyrant Pharaoh smiled,
did not see the pattern in the whole.
Forgive the triumphalism and the pride,
forego the curses and the ritual stuff.
You, older, I hope, will always side
with the enslaved and hunted,
deride the loud and lethal crowd
who vilify and simplify.
What is poetry but the first words
Adam, amazed, spoke to Eve?
On the first page of Genesis
hear the next to Nothing.
Later sound-effects, God off-stage, or theurgic stunts,
(water from a rock, a bush ablaze) might deceive
but bring ladders only to nerveless heaven.
Better to walk with Jephthahs luckless daughter
among real hills. And grieve.
Enjoy Davids winging gifts to praise;
Solomons rapturous serenade; also Jobs
night-starred elegance of distress -
though such eloquence can bless,
indiscriminately, the last flags of the just
and the unjust on the barricade.
Read, granddaughter, these scandalous stories,
screaming Joseph in the pit of scorpions,
champion Goliath of course outclassed;
so many cubits of sorrow and delight,
so many visions of our ruffian Past.
They do not stale or fade
and may fortify and mollify.
©Dannie Abse 1998. With
acknowledgement to Hutchinson, a division of Random House (UK), publishers of ARCADIA, ONE
MILE, by Dannie Abse, in which these poems appear.