JONAH

I could damn everything equally, just don't ask me in the name of what.
In the name of Isaish, the prophet, het with the grotesque and unfinished gesture
of his colleague Jonah
who never managed to go through with his simple task, given to th ups and downs
of good and evil, to the fickle circomstances of history
that plunged him into the uncertainties of a whale's belly.
Like Jonah, the clown of heaven, always obstinate in going through with his simple
task, the explosive briefcase tucked under a sweaty armpit, an umbrella worn down
like a lightning rod.
And Jehovah's doubts about him, wavering between mercy and anger, grabbing him and tossing him, the old instrument whose use is doubtful
no longer used at all any more.

I too will end my days under a tree
but like those old drunken tramps who detest everything equally, don't ask me
anything, all I know is that we'll be destroyed
Blindly I see the hand of a lord whose name I don't remember,
his delicate fingers clenched awkwardly. And also something else that has nothing
to do with it. I remember something like...
no, it's only that. Just a thought, it doesn't matter. I just don't know where I am
going again.
Help me Lord in Thy abandonment.