Upon arriving home our Pilgrim asks
his Spouse to wake him later, for his lids
are rather heavy from the day's events,
to which she acquiesces, but reminds:
"Attempt to not appear too tucker'd out
when Preacher comes to sup, for do recall
that we invited him to dine with us
this final time before he leaves the town
to preach within the polis to the north
of here, upon the western face of cliffs 10
that split our island town from th'other ones."
He nods to this and up the stairs he goes
to crawl into his bed and doze away,
aware that he will not require her
to wake him up; his counterpart will rise
out from the bed instead of him, but that's
alright with him, for he hath grown to trust
his shadow with the seven months they've shar'd
their paradise and work'd t'achieve their goals,
and certainly his counterpart will be 20
the better of the two at say'ng farewell.
Pariah in this place remains to rest,
conserving th'energy their body hath
for him to keep control til its collapse,
for sev'ral hours ere he rises up
and readies for the guest they both will host
by stepping into th'room just next of bed's
where at the hanging mirror doth he wash
his visage of the sleep around his eye
with water from a basin that they keep 30
upon a pedestal below the mirr'r.
He turns and now considers drawing bath
from th'well outside to fill the metal tub
that's next to him by th'use of pulley ropes
he rigg'd outside the window of this room
with buckets so they'd never have to leave
the comfort of th'indoors to draw a bath.
But he decides he dothn't want to take
the time to warm the water in the tub
by setting flame to logs beneath its tin, 40
(as flooring round the tub is that of stone)
instead deciding face and hands enough
to wash, despite the grime he built before
whilst counterpart did sweat beneath his garb.
He ambles down the stairs and kisses Spouse,
who's boiling peppers, beef and onions slic'd
with lentils, fava beans and garlic cloves
for stew, which emanates a fragrance rich
with spices grown and ground from peppercorn
she grows in smaller gardens on the side 50
for just the two of them, since much of town's
put off by spices much preferr'd in South,
though Preacher's tasted Spouse's cooking ere
and claims t'enjoy the flavours of their home,
so he's the only guest that ever they
have given proper desert meals to
(as even Minister detested these
reminders on his tongue of slavery).
They hold each other for a moment's time,
and on conclusion of their kiss, the Spouse 60
doth say to him whilst giggling like a lass:
"I almost was about to wake thee up,
but now I see the lazy bum arose
without mine help requested earlier."
Pariah grins at her and here replies:
"I am an independent man who doth
not need a silly wake-up call from thee,
and shouldst thou start to think me otherwise
I'll kick thee to the streets for thee to fend
for self a little while. Then we'll see 70
who's more dependent on the other one."
She rolls her eyes, returning to the stove,
a playful smile spread across her lips
as rapping at the door disrupts their talk.
Pariah goes to answer, coming face-
to-face with Preacher, shaking hands with left.
"I hope my tardiness," the Preacher says,
"hath miss'd me not this luxury at hand,
for I can smell thy Spouse's cooking here
upon the stoop and notice now I have 80
not eaten since this morning's service held
and do recall quite loving what she cooks!"
Pariah waves the Preacher in his home
and offers in response to him th'reply:
"Fret not, O Father; thou art just in time,
for we are but about to serve the meal,
and only started simm'ring minute past
to keep it warm. Now prithee take a seat."
The Preacher steps inside and takes a chair
as th'entrance shuts behind and supper's serv'd
with our Pariah carrying the pot 90
of stew out from the kitchen using cloths
to keep his hands from burning on its sides.
But on the heavy pot the cloth in right,
so held in place by pressure, loses grip
and slips off from the side; the pot descends
a fraction of a second ere our man
reacts and drops his right to grasp the pot
beneath its bottom. Spouse and Preacher jump
at seeing this and clear the table's edge
so quickly may Pariah now unload 100
this searing burden; yet instead of this,
he carefully puts down the pot in place
and pulls his nerveless hand from underneath
with th'words: "It's fine. No feeling anyway."
It's here the Preacher notices his right
this first of times the seven months they've liv'd
outside the town, and here he doth remark:
"This scar upon thine hand is like a glove!
What sort of foul disaster caus'd this black
t'envelop round thy palm in such a way?" 110
Pariah tells a lie and says twas of
the tortures he endur'd imprison'd with
the Minister whilst both were captives held,
and why he says this: simply he cannot
yet face the guilt at breaking th'oath he made
to moon and punishment that he receiv'd
from Sky, resultant of this treachery—
this hand that's charr'd forever to remind
himself that he's a failure to the Gods.
He takes a seat beside the Spouse who says 120
no word deny'ng the story he hath told,
and all begin to scoop their stew into
their bowls of clay with ladles from the pot.
Once all possess a bowl of stew and pray
their thanks ere scooping spoons doth Spouse now say:
"So Preacher, with thy plans approaching now
thou likely art excited to depart
and journey north of here to educate
the people of the polis in thy ways."
The Preacher tilts his head uncertainly 130
and sneers a little ere he doth reply:
"This opportunity is surely great,
for I shall have a larger audience
consid'rably, yet I'm ambivalent,
for, see, more lately I've encounter'd doubts
about the word I preach to others' ears,
as knowing that my words do manifest
within the hearts of those who heed my speech
is heavy on the conscience when I think
perhaps the words I speak are meaningless; 140
just falsehoods, make-believe or something such.
If what I preach is wrong, then who am I;
a prophet false? Pretender in a robe?"
Pariah and the Spouse aback are took
by th'outburst of the Preacher's waning faith.
"What's brought this on?" the Spouse doth ask of him.
"Just earlier thou spoke with confidence
about what thou believe, and th'others too.
What possibly hath happen'd since the morn
to bring about this doubt inside thy mind?" 150
The Preacher shakes his head. "Tis nothing new.
These feelings come and go from time to time,
and even had they started by the time
this morn I spoke toward the funeral.
The catalyst, I would believe, this time
is murder of the Minister, for he
hath such—had such—a generous of hearts,
and thinking there are persons on this Earth
who'd kill a man as he. . . it makes me doubt
the Sea is really where we all proceed 160
upon our deaths so Thiy can try again
at making someone better than the last,
for human generations do recede
for countless centuries, yet still Thiy's not
perfected th'wretched. Makes me almost think
humanity'd be better if there was
a vow that all us made upon our births
to higher powers that we cleanse the land
of evil where we see it rear its head."
He shakes his head at this. "But listen not 170
to th'ramblings of a man disparaging.
Tis simply grief to breathe across my lips.
I only wish to know if what I've learn'd
and taught to many others holds a grain
of truth, or if my faith's illusory.
Are people getting better, do you think?
And if tis true that perfect souls return
to flesh again, then where do they proceed
to through th'interim's wait betwixt their deaths
and births again? Th'imperfect have the Sea 180
to sort them out ere subsequent rebirth,
but where are those perfected kept to wait?"
Pariah finishes his bowl and says:
"I'd think that neither us could answer thee,
for we believe in wholly something else
and aren't concern'd with reoccurring souls.
Regardless, though, how faith of thine should wane,
if only thou shouldst preach of peace to keep
the armies to the north away from us,
then thou'lt have done enough within thy life." 190
The Preacher nods his head. "Of course. That's right.
I'm preaching to the wrongest two around,
or maybe rightest two, for you at least
don't panic when I start to lose my faith
as th'others would, as I'm their pillar in
such matters, holding curtains o'er their eyes.
And yea, I only need to spread the word
of peace among the masses to be right,
for matters secular don't need my faith
for me to know they're right and need be done." 200
He sighs through nostrils, mouth a twisting sneer.
"Perhaps, however, we should speak of else,
for on the morrow I'm to start my drive,
and I'd prefer the conversation last
we have be one more pleasant than this talk."
They all agree to this proposal gave
and change the subject, speaking hours on
til night is old and Preacher's forc'd to drive
by lantern light, declining th'offer'd bed. 209