Wisdom from a Gnostic Sage
He Descended into Hell
My heart goes down to Hell with him,
Though I must shut my eyes
To what he sees. I fear the dark,
But trail with quiet tread
Lest he looks back,
And weakening, lets me cling to him.
For he has work to do within
That senseless void, and I
Must be a hovering thing and hope
That he will see the light
Again, and say
That unmade, made again, is good.
The pains of childbirth, then of dispossession,
A leaping heart, then steady retrogression
Was all angelic flutters came to bring.
Fair salutations bore a farewell sting.
And Death’s dark angel did not pass my door,
But slammed the board, demanding more and more.
My God, you owe this to me: let me see
Wherefore my child has now forsaken me.
I want to see him rise to tear the veil,
And borne by angels his kind Father hail,
As his bejewelled banner he unfurls,
His blood its rubies and my tears its pearls.
A tree is butchered into beams,
Torn flesh emblematised,
As Jesse’s rod is re-conceived –
Adorned with jewels, hung with gold,
The ark becomes a rood.
A flotsam of humanity
Drowns in a sea of blood.