DoorWay Canto 2 Extract from James Sales’ Epic Poem

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DoorWay Canto 2, Extract

The Poet has gone through the ‘DoorWay’ and
entered heaven. Here in the second Canto and in
the constellation of Libra he meets his dead
grandfather (who was a Libran: 30/7) and his
uncle Jim, who died only ten years old and long
before the Poet’s birth, so the Poet never met him
when alive. We encounter an extract from their
meeting—the place ‘where nothing’s sure’ is, of
course, when the Poet returns to Earth. The
Seraph Michael has his St. Michael’s day on the
29th September—in Libra, and he is its presiding
spirit, for in the final judgement he is represented
with scales, in which he weighs the souls of the
risen dead.

Jim smiled at me, as one who understands;
And sure beyond a wisdom being ten
Began, explaining, re-building our bond.

‘Brother, may He above give you His strength,
Enlarge your mind, and guide you and your soul
To full contrition that you may this length

Of heaven experience—return to tell all;
He has raised you up, purposeful, for this:
That being least—no-one—of no recall—

Your words, through His Spirit, tell of His glories
To peoples who have yet to see the sun
And live. If art be true, your words won’t miss.’

I laughed. ‘Brother, you say? Me? Such a one?
But uncle is the word we use on earth;
You were before when all is said and done.’

Now laughing louder, so bemused with mirth,
He put me straight: ‘No hierarchy here,
Brother, distinctions, precedents of birth,

Class, race or sex, or features which appear
That mankind notes or dotes or makes much of;
No, here only the One is really queer—

Unlike—unfathomable in depths of love.
See, there!’ With that his finger pointed up
To vast expanses limitless above—

But in pointing, clearly, I saw one shape
Which grew in clarity from dot-like star
To juggernaut of light’s most blazing Seraph:

Michael—first-born of Seraphim, their Tzar;
But what, I understood, does ‘Michael’ mean?
‘For who is like the Lord?’—I saw how far

The pin-prick of his presence on the screen
Above and its enormous, arching scale
Was from the Lord no eye had ever seen,

Could see, except … there: Golgotha’s tale.
The thought of it, just pierced me to the quick—
As once before the sight of angels failed

Seeing it; sun gone dark, and Earth wan sick.
Beside me, sudden, soldier Seraph stood;
His light—I turned, half-closed my eyes, oblique

To presence not endured by flesh and blood;
And flesh itself irradiated by rays
That would, if on the Earth, fry up my mud;

But here I felt an increase of my days,
As if—though visitor only—some cure
Worked its effects, and would my death delay

Returning to that place where nothing’s sure…

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James Sale has had over 50 books published, most recently, “Mapping Motivation for Top Performing Teams” (Routledge, 2021). He has been nominated by The Hong Kong Review for the 2022 Pushcart Prize for poetry, has won first prize in The Society of Classical Poets 2017 annual competition, and performed in New York in 2019. He is a regular contributor to The Epoch Times. His most recent poetry collection is “StairWell.” For more information about the author, and about his Dante project, visit https://englishcantos.home.blog