(sorry, this is long—for what it’s worth, it’s in three parts: you could read one part and then another, later; thanks for reading either way or at all; oh, and there are notes below

do I need one title over this? maybe Obbligato or better Ad Libitum)

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Ad Libidum

(a journey like Dante, Odysseus, or the hero in The Hero and the Crown)

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takeover

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am I under attack?

maybe in a kind of

Screwtape way

with subtleties

sly distractions

angers

and a state of frustration

the Lewis pegged

the twentieth century

the corporate lies

we tell

the bureaucracies

like gods

we serve

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more personally

I have given in

and sometimes I wonder

about dreams

and the waking-up

disoriented

as if I don’t know the room

I’ve tried to sleep in

over years

or maybe

it’s more obvious

something negative

takes over

and gets worse

and there is nothing else

to see

or taste

or in which to believe

all is lust

without commitment

theft of energies

when I have none

or

destruction

of the normal

and the decent

and expected

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overthrown

by unnatural surprise

and then

in praise of nothing

self-destruction

taking as many molecules

as I may

with me

and I have lost my hope

in you

there is no you

only targets

and sensations

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all bad

all going nowhere

all sin

a rage that blinds

as if

I were a vengeful hero

though the song has turned

into

spinning anger

promising an end

to something good

and maybe

long-lasting

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though I have kicked out

oaths and promises

in favor of

the awful

ending

now

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after-action

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the end

might be an exorcist

something has to give

has to go

revelation

just in time

or on the morning after

or even the next hour

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confession?

well

all is ego

and there is no ego

so there be sneering

at the thought

or comment

of remediation

in other words

stop

simply stop

for now

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breathe

think

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what’s in pieces

might be brought

together

or it might take faith

more than

either of us has

lingering beliefs

now shattered

lying all around

filtering the air

with a severity

of sin

to breathe

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it could be theft

returning what was taken

it could be consumption

spent

and maybe inhalation

bring it back again

or something more

someone else

with something else

mercy, anyway

and love

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and so

Dante might be saved

by Beatrix

once having felt the invitation

of the lowest circle

Satan and archdemons

forever frozen

and forever flying

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purgatorio

to gain a paradiso

stopped there

while back through

the circles

their numbers decrease

I rise

and that which saves

rise with me

‘til I reach the saving soil

of normal Earth

and a chance

because I’m here

(no other reason

for the wrong)

and have a day

an hour

handful of seconds

for

you know

repentance

penitence

sorrow to grieve

hope in the quiet

after

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the demons lash elsewhere

they lick the stamps

of their agendas

sent from cubicles

and corner offices of hell

while I might be clear

and on a hillside

or other rim of Earth

know the sky

throughout the hours

and the saving grace

of what I know

the God

of sun and moon

sisters and brothers

equidistant from the light

who believe

and hope

and try

with me

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inferno

purgatorio

what now

the paradiso?

maybe

maybe another day

for figuring

then let go the numbers

except one

perhaps

and three

and then everything

is countless

for a universe

and you and I

are two and one

and there’s nothing more

complex

than faith and hope

and love

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disposition

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while we might breathe clear

of Earth

on Earth

as in heaven

all dimensions

obeisant

at the last

and we live forever

like a day

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c l couch

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quite plainly, a description of a process of spiritual warfare, guessed at through the ages, I try at it pedestrianly today

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works cited (sort of)

The Screwtape Letters

The Divine Comedy

The Hero and the Crown by Robin McKinley

other things, I’m sure

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Photo by Miguel Bruna on Unsplash

Even the Dead have their tasks.

Limón Province, Costa Rica

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