Caroling Dusk/Nocturne at Bethesda
NOCTURNE AT BETHESDA
I thought I saw an angel flying low,I thought I saw the flicker of a wingAbove the mulberry trees; but not again.Bethesda sleeps. This ancient pool that healedA host of bearded Jews does not awake.This pool that once the angels troubled does not move.No angel stirs it now, no Saviour comesWith healing in His hands to raise the sickAnd bid the lame man leap upon the ground.
The golden days are gone. Why do we waitSo long upon the marble steps, bloodFalling from our open wounds? and whyDo our black faces search the empty sky?
Is there something we have forgotten? some precious thingWe have lost, wandering in strange lands?
There was a day, I remember now,I beat my breast and cried, “Wash me God,Wash me with a wave of wind uponThe barley; O quiet One, draw near, draw near!Walk upon the hills with lovely feetAnd in the waterfall stand and speak.
“Dip white hands in the lily pool and mournUpon the harps still hanging in the treesNear Babylon along the river’s edge,But oh, remember me, I pray, beforeThe summer goes and rose leaves lose their red.”
The old terror takes my heart, the fearOf quiet waters and of faint twilights.There will be better days when I am goneAnd healing pools where I cannot be healed.Fragrant stars will gleam forever and everAbove the place where I lie desolate.
Yet I hope, still I long to live.And if there can be returning after deathI shall come back. But it will not be here;If you want me you must search for meBeneath the palms of Africa. Or ifI am not there then you may call to me Across the shining dunes, perhaps I shallBe following a desert caravan.
I may pass through centuries of deathWith quiet eyes, but I’ll remember stillA jungle tree with burning scarlet birds.There is something I have forgotten, some precious thing.I shall be seeking ornaments of ivory,I shall be dying for a jungle fruit.
You do not hear, Bethesda.O still green water in a stagnant pool!Love abandoned you and me alike.There was a day you held a rich full moonUpon your heart and listened to the wordsOf men now dead and saw the angels fly.There is a simple story on your face;Years have wrinkled you. I know, Bethesda!You are sad. It is the same with me.