‘Reward for How You Live’: A Poem by D.A. Cooper

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Reward for How You Live

from Italo Calvino’s Italian folktale “Gesù e San Pietro in Friuli”

One night, while traveling on a mountain road,
two wanderers came upon a small abode.

The vagrants, Jesus and Saint Peter, knocked.
The house’s occupant then came, unlocked
the door, and opened it a tiny crack.

__“What do you want?”

__Saint Peter answered back:
“Hello, dear woman. We two need your grace,
perhaps a bite to eat, a pleasant place
to shelter us from the unfriendly night.”

The woman looked at them by candlelight;
she eyed them up and down, from head to toe
and said, “You’re worthless tramps, you’ve got to go!”

“For God’s sake, help us, ma’am!” Saint Peter said.
She slammed the door, and Peter turned all red.
He looked at Jesus, begging with his eyes,
praying for vengeance with his silent cries.
But Christ ignored him and began again
__to walk.

__They found another house, a twin
to that one where they had been spurned. They knocked.
The house’s occupant then came, unlocked
the door, and opened it a tiny crack.

__“Can I help you?”

__And Peter answered back:
“Hello, dear woman. We two need your grace,
perhaps a bite to eat, a pleasant place
to shelter us from the unfriendly night.”

The woman opened wide her door, the light
of her small fire lit up their faces. “Well,
of course! Come in, come in and sit a spell,
you must be freezing. Now, come in and rest.
Of course, you’ll stay with me as honored guests.
Besides, there’s nowhere else that you could go
this time of night, the sun set hours ago.
Why it’s pitch black out there! What little I
can do for you, I’ll do. Now don’t be shy.”

She moved her spinning wheel away. “Please, sit
beside the fire and warm yourselves a bit.
I bet you’re hungry, I’ll make you some food.”

“That would be great. You have our gratitude,
dear woman,” Peter said as they both sat
beside the fire upon a woven mat.

Ms. Catherine (which was the lady’s name)
took some small twigs and fed them to the flame,
and she began to cook a broth of greens
she’d gathered from the woods, and tender beans,
which Peter was so overjoyed to see.

After they ate their soup and drank some tea,
Ms. Catherine showed them up to a loft
that she had lined with hay fresh, clean and soft.
“Oh, what a blessed woman!” Peter said,
exhausted and content. He laid his head
__upon the hay and fell asleep.

__At dawn,
the Lord and Peter (with a final yawn)
expressed their thanks to sweet Ms. Catherine.

“Good woman,” Jesus said, “what you begin
this morning, may you do it all day long
without the need of rest. You will be strong
and unimpeded by fatigue. I give
this blessing as reward for how you live.”
With that, the Lord and Peter took their leave.

Ms. Catherine sat down, began to weave,
for weaving was her trade, her daily work,
the duty that, of all, she could not shirk.
She grabbed her loom and set about her weaving,
she wove and wove all day, not ever leaving
her seat for rest or food or drink or other
bodily needs. Not since the days her mother
bounced her upon a knee had she been filled
with so much energy, and she was thrilled!
The shuttle flew across the loom, the weft
was led through warps by hands both quick and deft,
and as the day sped on, from morn to noon
Ms. Catherine’s creations filled the room;
each cloth she wove was thrown onto a mound
that soon began to spread along the ground.
By night, the cloths had covered up the floor
and spilled right out the windows and the door
until—though it’s not easy to believe—
the woven mountain reached up to the eaves.

That night, her neighbor Jacqueline (the same
who’d chased away the Lord and Peter) came
to visit Catherine. Ms. Jacqueline
saw all the finished cloth that Catherine
had made and shouted out in envious
surprise, and then she made a noisy fuss,
demanded that her friend should spill the beans:
“You’ve made enough to clothe the Apennines!”

So, Catherine told her about the drifters,
that they were nice and certainly weren’t grifters.
And when Ms. Jacqueline had understood
that those two were the same ones who had stood
before her door the night before, she swore
__and cursed her luck.

__“Do they have any more
reason to pass back by us on this road?”

“Oh yes, I heard them talking while I sewed
last night just after they had finished eating.
They’re going up the valley for a meeting,
and then they plan to take the same way back.”

“Well then, I hope you’ll send them to my shack.
It would be nice if they’d cast such a spell
on me, so I too could have lots to sell.”

Ms. Catherine said, “Dear, I would be glad.”
Of course, you know, she meant it for she had
the kindest, gentlest heart in all the land.

Ms. Jacqueline went home and couldn’t stand
to wait a single day to get her boon,
“I hope those worthless tramps get back here soon.”

On the next night, there came a gentle knock.
Ms. Catherine then came and turned the lock.
She opened up the door a tiny crack.

__“Can I help you?”

__And Peter answered back:
“Hello again, dear woman. We need grace,
perhaps a bite to eat, a pleasant place
to shelter us from the unfriendly night.”

The woman opened wide her door, the light
of her small fire lit up their faces. “Well,
tonight my house is pretty full, to tell
the truth. I’ve filled it up with cloth. I’ve got
no room. But don’t you worry, sirs, I’ve thought
of some place else that you can go. Just down
next to the creek, out on the edge of town
lives my dear friend Ms. Jacqueline. She’ll make
__you right at home.

__Peter began to shake
his head, as he had not forgotten what
Ms. Jacqueline had said. Then Jesus cut
him off before he started to complain,
said thanks again, and started down the lane.

At the small house, there came a gentle knock.
Ms. Jacqueline then came and turned the lock.
She opened up the door a tiny crack.

__“What do you want?”

__Saint Peter answered back:
“Hello again, dear woman. We need grace,
perhaps a bite to eat, a pleasant place
to shelter us from the unfriendly night.”

The woman looked at them by candlelight;
and slyly said, “Of course, fine gentlemen,
come in. We’re poor folk in these parts, but when
some pilgrim needs a hand, we do our best
to help and trust that God will do the rest.
I hope God blessed you on your trip. Please, sit
next to the fire and warm yourselves a bit.
I’ll have some dinner ready soon. The floor
will have to be your bed tonight. I’m poor,
__but glad to help.”

__So, Christ and Peter spent
the night upon the ground without lament.

On the next morning, at the crack of dawn,
the Lord and Peter (with a final yawn)
said thanks again to mean Ms. Jacqueline.

“Good woman,” Jesus said, “what you begin
this morning, may you do it all day long
without the need of rest. You will be strong
and unimpeded by fatigue. I give
this blessing as reward for how you live.”
With that, the Lord and Peter went their way.

Ms. Jacqueline then said, “Today’s the day!”
Now I’ll show everyone what I can do,
I’ll weave as much as Catherine times two!”

But just before she sat down at her loom,
she had a thought and walked out of the room.
She headed to the outhouse to take care
of business so she wouldn’t have to spare
her weaving time to stop and do it later.

Although she hadn’t ever had a greater
desire to hurry up than she did now,
__it seemed she couldn’t finish.

__“Holy cow!
It just keeps coming out! Of all the days!
__I wonder what I ate?”

__The sun’s bright rays
began to oust the dark, then she could see.
Her eyes went wide. “Oh no, it cannot be!
__Oh please, not that!”

__After an hour, she tried
to get up off the pot, go back inside
the house to start her weaving, but she had
to run right back—her stomach felt so bad—
and barely made it. She was forced to pass
the day in this unpleasant way. Alas,
Ms. Jacqueline had to give up her dream
of churning out new fabric by the ream.

As she sat there conducting her affairs,
she lifted up her voice in humble prayer:
“And now, O God,” she said, “I will give thanks
if I don’t cause the creek to burst its banks.”

And thus we see that how you treat your neighbors
can sweeten or stink up your daily labors.

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D.A. Cooper is a poet from Houston, TX. He is an avid collector of degrees. Most recently he has received his MFA from the University of St. Thomas, Houston. His poetry has also appeared (or is soon to appear) in Dialogue Journal, Light, Lighten Up Online, L’Italo Americano, Irreantum, and Philosophy Now.

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