The Forest - Canto VII
1.
Thus concluded Gabriel his story.
Malcolm looked at him aghast with admiration
and compassion, turbulent mixed feelings
but was more impressed than he had ever been,
especially by Gabriel's personality,
which seemed serenity itself in perfect harmony
and consummation of maturity and beauty
all embalmed in this fair youth of timeless charm.
"If you are like your mother," Malcolm finally commented,
"then indeed she must be the most beautiful of ladies in the world."
"I take it as a compliment," said Gabriel,
"not to myself but to my mother."
2.
Gabriel invited Malcolm to remain, of course,
as long as he desired, and the monk was glad to do so
for some days at least. He spent the days in Gabriel's company
in long discussions, spiritual conversations
and hard work in the organic gardens
with some necessary updating repairs on the three cottages.
For years, and taught by Manuel, Gabriel had kept it up
all by himself but was now glad to have some help.
3.
But finally the hour was come for Malcolm to depart.
"I would not want my abbot to start worrying,
and surely he expects me back with some anxiety,
and so do many others." Gabriel agreed.
"Of course you must return and tell the others
of our sanctuary here and of its story,
whether they can manage to believe it or will disregard it,
but this place exists, which no one can deny,
and I am here to verify it.
Naturally, I expect you back."
"I know the way and can not miss it,"
answered Malcolm, and they were agreed.
4.
And then it came to pass, that Malcolm left the forest.
The same day, he made it down to Winchester
and found the bishop there, his cousin
cordially expecting him with an enormous dinner.
Malcolm entertained him all the evening with his story,
and the bishop laughed his sides off
better every time he started a new round of laughter
that shook all the vestry and all Winchester to its foundations.
5.
Just a few days afterwards, the monk came back to Devon
and found on a rosy morning his beloved abbot
in his garden tending to his roses.
"Well, my friend," the abbot said most naturally calm,
"what did you find? And what did you expect to find?
Don't tell me you were disappointed."
"On the contrary, my father, I found much more
than I ever could expect. I found a forest."
"Tell me what you mean," the abbot said,
and he was mighty serious. Malcolm had no choice
but to relate the entire story from beginning to the end
without omitting any details.
6.
Afterwards the abbot kept his silence
for a long while thinking deep and thoroughly digesting
Malcolm's strange account, as if to ponder
whether he could take it seriously or as a fake.
At last the abbot spoke but without raising his grave looks.
"My friend," he said, "this verifies what I believed in always.
You have found a forest, but it's not unique.
Each forest in the world is no less sacred
than the one that destiny has led your footsteps to.
In ancient days we worshipped every tree,
especially the oaken ones, because they were the oldest,
therefore the most venerable of all life manifestations.
Every kind of life is sacred, and not just your forest,
although it may be the very ultimate unalienable evidence
of the eternal sanctity of every kind of life."
7.
And thus the forest soon became a place of pilgrimage
and worship. One of the three houses, Manuel's,
the first one, was transformed into a chapel,
and our brother Malcolm was bequeathed with
the responsibility of taking care of it.
As monk in charge thereof, he spent more time
with Gabriel in the forest than at his own monastery.
8.
Once a wayward wanderer came back from far abroad.
It actually was David, who had found a trace
of Celia and Isak far away in Persia and India.
That's where he was heading next.
He could not stay, he said, for more than a few days
but was impressed and enthusiastic
about what the monks had done to cultivate the forest,
raising it to a more sacred status than it had before
and making it a busy place for pilgrimage.
9.
And thus the story ends. We know not whether David
finally succeeded in his quest for bringing Celia and Isak home,
but there is always hope he did, although it can't be verified.
The End.
Manali, September 2nd, 2008.
Poetry by Christian Lanciai
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Written on 2008-09-20 at 12:15
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