The Ladder of St. Perpetua, Conrad of Hirsau, first quarter 13th century
Published graciously by my friends at the Bethlehem Society.
PERPETUA
“At the demand of the pagan mob they were first scourged; then a bear, a boar, and leopard were set at the men, and a wild cow at the women.”
“Wherefore, my brethren, ye also are become dead to the law by the body of Christ; that ye should be married to another, even to him who is raised from the dead . . .”
She blinks against the harsh light of the sun,
The amphitheater’s red windblown sand.
Her breasts ache from the absence of her child.
The open air is sweet as pastureland
After the prison; reeking, still, defiled.
Within her dwells the kingdom of the One.
Her body, rent and naked, bleeding, scorns
Her love; (how can she, in this flesh, atone?
And in old Carthage where the man from Troy
Sparked Dido’s pyre?) Each minute left suborns
Her spirit to her flesh. She heaves a groan
As she begets, within, a capitol.
She wears no purple robe, or crown of thorns.
The law, in love with what it would destroy,
Made her wear garlands for the festival.
As if high Jove, from out the thunder’s burl
And metamorphosed to an animal
Had come to take possession of the girl.
That law bears witness to the nuptial joy.
The local prefect slouches on his throne,
The mob grows silent as a child that mourns
With solemn shock a newly broken toy;
As, moving through the skin and breast and bone
The Bridegroom’s creature takes her on its horns;
And men discover that her germinal
Pale flesh, unlike the god’s, is not of stone.
The young centurion’s blade draws out a stream
Of blood. The body, dying and infirm
Releases her from this, the land of shades:
She steps across the body of the worm,
And climbs the ladder, hung with sharpened blades
That she had seen in her appointed dream.
I am always glad that I've read your work , Michael. This is a poem I will go back to over and over. Thank you and God bless your work!