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It was a bitter morning, the ground hotter upon my flesh
I kneeled at the center of the pit on the twentieth day,
Remembering a tune sung so long ago,
A great song grieving for the incessant wars 
Around me
I had almost forgotten how cruel the sounds were…
“Dona, dona…nobis, pacem.”

The voices of the suffering groaning,
Satan the Devil landed close beside,
Watching me scoop the muck on the ground with my hands
He eyed me closely, 
Never blinking as he absorbed my solo

I sang the words as I remembered,
My voice ringing around the darkened well
Sifting around and upwards, so that all creatures may behold it

“Word over all,
Beautiful as the sky,
Beautiful that war
And all its deeds and carnage,
Must in time
Be utterly lost…”

He grimaced, as I continued digging through the soot,
My hands scooping slowly and resolvedly

“That the hands of the sisters,
Death and Night,
Incessantly, softly
Wash again and ever again,
This…soiled… world…”

My tears fell upon the filth,
As the sobbing from the maelstrom arose ever louder
The tears dripped richly, freshly
Forming a small puddle that broke the hardened rock,
Washing away the stubborn muck
I dug yet still deeper and deeper,
Slowly and surely…

“I look where he lies white faced and still,
In the coffin
I draw near,
Bend down,
And touch lightly with my lips
The white face
In the coffin…”

My last weak note fell in our Prince’s ear like that of a dull bell,
The break of my voice drawing him nearer
Curiously crouching close
For a long time, he said nothing

In the stillness,
I thought of my grandfather, lying rigid,
A frown forever dressed on his features
A face once filled with bountiful life
The pain of his death reminded me of the evil that birthed such tragedy
The reality of this darkness perching my pain
And I was reminded that twenty days,
And four hundred ninety nine years more,
I must wait
To see his beautiful, alighted face again
To confide in him once more as in days past,
His strong thoughtfulness and kindness
That so led me to be who I am

“Dona Nobis Pacem…” He spat, reviling each word
“How many have sung those very same words, over all,
In vain…to bring their swords and spears to battle,
In turn…to bury their dead, gnashing their teeth,
Crushing the bones of those they love the most…

Dona Nobis Pacem, in the face of war,
The pleading of your tears,
Mud is it merely, that forms there,
In your heart of despair…”

He clasped by dirty hand to cease my digging,
Holding it up for him to see,
To feel how the dirtiness felt between my fingers,
Up my palms, and damasked upon my arms
As if to vanquish the grief in every fiber of my being
As if to extinguish from his thick brow some secret sensation...
He then lowered my hand with a sigh,
Sudden grief interrupting my sorrowful dirge
In some strange, counterproductive confliction
I drew my other hand to him, and set it on top of his own
I looked into his eyes, my heart softly sinking

“Why have I come here to you, Prince of Darkness..?”

Puddles of tears streamed down,
To our feet, and his gnarled toes impressed their warmth
The moment they touched, the ground glowed,
Revealing an expanding pool of clear water
Thirstily, desperately, I broke away from the Devil,
To cup my hands into the water,
To drink

He watched me drink with immense anger and jealousy,
Horror even, at the formation of this pure water in his well
With a great scoop of the soil, the stubborn soot, 
He cried out, hurling the thick mass into the pool, 
And like oil, it dispersed,
Floating in droplets on the surface, 
Secluded from the depths of the water, 
Separate elements, existing together—
He and I

“Dona…dona, 
Nobis…
Pacem… . pacem…” 

His fists clenched
“How I have hurt her…
Let His waters flow within her
I, the current, shall win her
From the inside and outwards, 
How I shall win her. . .
How she must be mine. . .”
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-Note: This is a special section which features words that are quoted from the English composer’s Ralph Vaughan William’s great work Dona Nobis Pacem, the third movement (out of six ) entitled Reconciliation. In this song, the words from the poet Walt Whitman are put to music. The gentle intensity of this section offered me great happiness and inspiration.
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