Mary's lament

[a revised version of this poem appears in the collection Removals]

I

Pregnancy brought me joy and pain
Pain and joy, joy and pain
Joy first, and then pain

As soon as I felt it grow within me
My body succumbed
To the swashes of hormones
The tides of chemicals
The traffic in tissue
I grew and changed
As he grew and changed

I became large and ungainly,
Comically rounded;
I smiled and patted my belly
In joy

My good humour even survived
That hurried journey along crowded roads
In the muddy, frosted fag-end of the year
To Joseph's native village

No room
Still, can't be helped, we bedded down
In straw, flanked by the steaming forms
Of cows

Then the baby came, and with it, pain
My muscles straining
I lay there, panting, sweating;
heart pounding, I cried out
Wailed in the sunset
Pain, such pain

Then there were two voices wailing
Then only one
Then none

II

Thirty years on, and thirty miles north
I reach the foot of the little hill
Of ill-omened name
The city walls behind me; the gate locked
against encroaching dusk
The three trees stood on the summit
Long shadows sweeping the grass
And something ending

We had done so much, taken such care;
Food, water, clothes, love
Joseph taught him a trade
We had thought to relax
See out our days, warm
In the knowledge that he carried on

But then Joseph died, left us alone;
And then he left,
Said he was called to other things
Had work to do
I waved him off
Kept my fear to myself

The rumours came
From time to time
Travellers, soldiers, relatives
Buzzing with news
He'd been here and there
Doing wonders
And helping, always helping

But then the good news stopped:
Instead, capture, trial, and sentence
I hurried to Jerusalem

I can do nothing but watch
But must do what I can
As he labours through the hours
His face drawn, plastered with sweat and blood
His voice cracked
He asked why his Father forsook him
I wanted to tell him
His mother had not

III

Now all is dark
I'm in some room
(I can't recall where)
With some people, friends I think,
Downcast, snivelling and sobbing
He had such strength!
And we do not

It is unbearable
What can I do but bear it?
I cannot go on
What can I do but go on?

Joy and pain, he brought me,
Pain and joy, joy and pain
Joy first, then pain
Such pain

The raven's tale

For forty days we had huddled in the rafters
Birds of every kind, squabbling over perches,
While the roof of the Ark was hammered
By incessant rain; through cracks in the shutters
I could see the swirling waters, heavy with silt,
Swelling and flowing around the boat

Then one dawn we woke in great surprise
Some change had happened, but what?
It took some time to realise
It was the silence, the absence of sound:
The rain had stopped;
We chattered in excitement

Noah strode in from the stern
His face drawn and pale
His clothes stained and damp
But relief filled his eyes
"It's over", he said, "We've come through"
We didn't know what he meant
"We'll start afresh - now all I need
Is a creature to search for land
As the water drops"

The dove, primping his white feathers,
Lifted his head high for notice
Raising envious glances
From his neighbours
But not from me

Noah shrewdly assessed the candidates:
Too fat, too slow, too dumb
He passed the dove and selected me
"Go, find a tree, quick as you can,
And bring a leaf to show me
That we can start our lives again"

Off I flew, fast and high, and straight
Lazily flapping my wings
Crossing the calming waves
Looking down for a trace of green
On and on, further and further,
Until, days later, I saw a rock
A pinnacle of some great mountain
Standing just proud of the sea
And landed there to rest

Later, much later, I heard the story
Of how the dove got on
Became a symbol for peace
For a covenant between God and man
And was blessed by Noah;
But I also heard rumours
That Noah dined on pigeon pie

I made my own way,
Self-sufficient
Needing nobody's grace,
Content to fly
Until my goal appears.