Friday, August 31, 2007

187 : 10/14/98 : Waiting on Grace (Canto 9)

Time passed and vapors gathered in the filthy air
And a crowd of lost souls gathered round to mock our plight
And my guide drew his cloaks about him with his face drawn with care

He eyed the murmuring mob around and muttered “this can’t be right
To come so far to be turned back by this hellhound crew
Ah waiting is the game of perdition’s endless night

“Hey Eliot” I said “tell me, is it true...”
His words were eroding my confidence
“You know your way around this place don’t you?”

He gave me a deep look that brought me to sense
“You’ve read what I wrote long ago
I’ve stared hard down every dark path; I know my way hence”

Our spectators drew back and a sickly glow
drew our heads around to a darker view
Three figures had mounted the wall screaming “You little worms below”

Are you waiting on grace to come and save you
Grace doesn’t live here anymore
We’re her sisters though and if you want passage through

We’ll only need some small favor in return for
Our help, how about that little scrap
you’re so proud of: your immortal soul will buy you through this door

The poet took hold of my head in a snap
and covered my eyes with his hands
“Look not on these evil spirits do not heed their rap”

“I know them from before” I said “I wrote of them in other lands”
I heard those bent creatures howling, the crowd harassing
And creeping closer in motley bands

“Look now” said my guide, “one now is passing
the tower on the border of this marsh
Look down to where the foul smoke has been massing

Through the filthy cloud of vapor acrid and harsh
strode an angel of power and light
Fog and spirits scattered in the wake of its unveering march

The furies melted back into the night
As he opened the door with one solid kick
And called out “Mockers even here do you fight

Powers that are so clearly beyond your sick
spirits’ domain, are you so blind still?
Even we can’t figure out what makes you tick”

It stood a moment at the iron sill
Then turned and went the way it came
It never paused to look at us for whom it did its master’s will

“Come now son” the poet said pointing to the flame
“Let us go among these monuments of human shame”

This song is part of a series loosely based on Dante's Inferno. You can read an essay about this series here. You can read a more general explanation of the origin of these lyrics here

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