The Sacristy

A pastoral palace
A haven for servants of God
A prep room for the clergyman.
A probationary clergyman,
At his knees in prayer before the lord.

Roars of thunder rattle the room,
Clashes of lightening illuminate,
Through a stained-glass window.  
He is alone,
Father Bernard Benedict,
At the mercy of the lord.

Bernard

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned greatly,
Questioning his own fate,
never before today.
I am full of fear, Father.
Terrified of what will become of me,
if my betrayal of you progresses.
I’m scared of what won’t become of me,
if I remain loyal.

Father, all I know for sure,
is that I’m very confused,
And I need guidance.
It is a sin to deny thy lord,
in any circumstance,
but it is my own twisted irony
to have doubts and...
To have doubts,
And yet seek your guidance...

The Voice

And just what kind of doubts are you having,
my son?
What is it that you seek?
Confide in thy father,
As you are my child,
My dearest little one.
Unleash your desires,
Unravel your pain,
Lend me your soul.

Bernard

…Father?

The Voice

Yes, my son?
My son,
I’m here.
Speak to me,
All ears are wide,
Wide and open.

Bernard

It is you, isn’t it?
May I see your face?

The Voice

I’m afraid that is not possible,
I’m afraid it is not so.
I do apologize,
My son.

Bernard

Why?
Is my wish not your command?
Is it not your mission,
To aid in my suffering?
Why is it that I cannot see you?
Why is it that I cannot experience you?

The Voice

Because I don’t exist.

Bernard

Just what kind of a game,
Just what kind of a game are trying to play?
Father?
Manifest yourself!
Allow me to lay my tearful eyes,
Upon your entity.

The Voice

...If you insist...

The Storm
Wooshing,
Roaring,
Angrily little clouds,
Zigzags of electric,
Blowing window shrouds.

Maroon Man

Howdy do,
Father Bernard,
Hiya,
Howdy do?

Bernard

Who…
Who are you?
Who are you,
And how did you…
Do?

Maroon Man

I’m him,
I’m him,
He,
Who is I.

Bernard

Father?
Son?
Holy Ghost?
Of any, all,
And everything at most?
Dressed to the nines,
Maroon and Red shoes,
That shine?

Maroon Man

Him?
Him?
Oh, please,
Heavens, no.
I’m merely that,
Other him,
You know,
He who should not be named.

Bernard

It can’t be,
Possibly,
Can’t be,
He,
The monster in my nightmares,
The monster of my dreams.
You’re not…

Maroon Man

Carrying a pitchfork?
Hovering with horns?
I left such things at home.
Silly little stereotypes,
Little legends in the books.

Bernard

What is it that you want from me?
What is it that you seek?
I’m merely faithful to my lord,
Not you, that man,
So foul,
You reek.

Maroon Man

I want to talk about your plans,
I want to talk your pain,
I want to talk your suffering,
Your losses and your gain.
Unleash your lonely grievances,
Unload your pesky thoughts.

Bernard

I don’t condone your evil,
I don’t condone your sin,
Allow me to my thoughts in peace,
And never tread within.

Maroon Man

No,
No,
Of course, you don’t condone me,
That’s why you’re so conflicted,
Struggling and buckling,
about your future,
spreading the good love of faith,
because you’re dead-set on,
not disobeying the almighty.

Bernard

Why,
Oh why,
Why is it that you’re here?

Maroon Man

I’m here to merely guide you,
I’m here to simply help,
My son you haven’t yet seen,
The things that I can do.


Bernard  

I don’t need your guidance,
Not your friendship,
Or your help,
Banished from this House of God,
Exiled from this home of holy.

Maroon Man

Don’t you?
Do you?
I hear you’re at a crossroad,
You need guidance,
You DO need guidance,
correct?



Bernard

Not from you,
Never from you,
I’d rather convert or follow none,
Than worship the likes of you.

Maroon Man

Why is that?

Bernard

Because you’re wicked.
You’re ghastly,
You are the symbol,
of all evil.
You are the reason why there is suffering,
and death in this sinful world.
You construct hate and pain,
and spread it like a virus.
You are a virus.

Maroon Man

Flattery will get you nowhere,
Father Benedict.
You’re merely reading,
A resume,
An eternity of achievement.

Bernard

I don’t care what you have to say,
I can’t indulge you,
I won’t indulge you,
To indulge you,
Is to lose me,
And to lose him.

Maroon Man

From what I can tell,
you’re uncertain of your faith.
Isn’t that correct?
Isn’t that so?
Tell me I’m wrong.

Bernard

No,
Not at all,
Not entirely so.
I know what I believe in,
I know what is so,
I just don’t...

Maroon Man

Just don’t,
what?
Speak!
Release what it is,
That has you in such shambles.

Bernard

I just don’t know,
I just don’t know,
if I want to devote my life,
to my faith.
My faith,
My faith,
Where’s the faith in me?
To devote this life,
To everything,
In terms of he?
I feel this way,
And ache this way,
Knowing full well,
That I will burn in hell,
For feeling this way.

Maroon Man

What is it that you have to sacrifice,
in order to become a soldier of Christ?
What is it that you give,
What is it that you gift?

Bernard

Time,
Time,
And life after time.

Maroon Man

Time, yes,
But there’s more to it,
than just time,
What else are you risking?
What is that you sacrifice?
We both know the answer to that,
We both know it true,
You’re risking freedom, you see,
if you pursue a life of pure faith,
you will never know what the beauty of…
pleasure is like.
Freedom is pleasurable,
isn’t it?
Pleasure,
Fulfillment,
Taking that first sip of bourbon in the morning-time,
Taking that long drag from a burning cigarette,
Truly knowing what it’s like,
to make love to a woman,
feeling every bit of passion and pleasure that…
comes with it.
You lack character in this world
and that’s because you are
unfulfilled.

Bernard

You...
You see right through me,
You see right through my pain,
Every ounce and every air,
Of all that I fail to obtain.

Maroon Man

Even he can,
He isn’t stupid,
He knows these are things you want,
But is he allowing you to do so?
No,
his words forbid such action.
Why?
Because,
all he really wants is recognition and obedience.

Bernard

You lie,
You lie,
and you lie,
You can’t possibly know,
what the lord truly wants.

Maroon Man

Don’t forget,
Don’t you ever lose sight,
I once fought alongside him,
the same way you are now,
and look where it got me,
once I realized that there is more,
more to it than just spreading peace,
and tranquility through him.
True peace is in pleasure.
He hates pleasure.
He craves order.

Bernard

And what makes you think,
that I want anything more than,
peace and tranquility?

Maroon Man

Because you wouldn’t be doubting,
your path to priesthood,
if you didn’t desire the very things,
He tells you not to desire.
Even desiring is a sin, you see.
To him,
desire is greed.
Take some initiative for yourself,
and humor me.

Bernard

I can’t.

Maroon Man

Why not?
You can,
Don’t you see?
I can show you.
I can show you,
Fruitful things.
I can show you all,
That he forbids.
Remember the girl?

Bernard

What girl?

Maroon Man

You know,
You know what girl,
Don’t tell me that,
You don’t remember,
The girl.

The Photograph

A framed image,
A portrait of beauty,
Her,
Gorgeous blonde locks,
A lovely little maiden,
Her,
God’s crafted angel,
Dearly Departed,
Cecelia.

Maroon Man

Cecilia,
She is why you are doing this,
aren’t you?
She died,
Tragically,
Overdosed, even.
A talented musician,
who got wiped away,
because of her desires.
Like blowing out a candle.
You think it was me?
You think it was me,
who took her away from you?

Bernard

Yes,
Yes,
I blame you,
You,
Foul old you,
You’re the reason why she’s gone,
You are the cause of pain.

Maroon Man

Wrong,
Wrong,
Wrong again, Bernard,
It was him, Bernard.
He who forbade,
Pleasure,
Mortality was her punishment,
for seeking such pleasures.
It was him, Bernard.
It’s much too easy,
Too easy to pin the blame on anyone,
but the true culprit.
It’s no coincidence,
that I’m here this evening,
Bernard.
I’ve been watching you,
I know you inside and out,
Better than you know yourself.
Do you now trust me?
We’re waiting, Father!
(beat)
Just as I thought.
You know that it’s better to have loved,
and lost,
then to never have loved at all.



Bernard

****… you…

Maroon Man

Profanity,
Profanity,
Is profanity not a sin?

Bernard

Why are you doing this to me?
Why are you here?
What is it that you aim to accomplish,
Foul, ghostly beast?

Maroon Man

If you’d just humor me,
If you’d just listen,
If you’d just dip your toes,
Into my point of view,
I can give you it all.

Bernard

What is it,
that you’ll do,
if I indulge you?

Maroon Man

You can have her,
She would be yours
for all eternity,
You can have everything,
you desire.
Only if you come with me.

Bernard

Can I talk to her?
Can I hold her?
Can I smell her scent?
Can I taste her lips?
Can I…

The Action

Maroon Man smiles,
Maroon Man nods,
Maroon Man grants,
And twirls his fingers,
At invisible atmospheric dials.

Outside the window,
Stood Cecelia dressed in black,
Bernard sniffs a soulful tear,
His love and lust had come for her,
It had unapologetically come back.

He raced outside the holy place,
And wandered in the fields,
To find his lovely little,
Cecelia May,
Waiting for his warm embrace.

I think of you in colours that don't exist --
     that's not to say that I don't think of you at all,
          because, of course, technically every colour exists:
Even the ones we cannot imagine,
   Even the ones we cannot see.
Even the ones either side of the spectrum that light up the notes used for money, not music, because the notes used for money
   are
      not
         always
            real.
Even the ones either side of the spectrum that light up the heat of your body like your presence does the room
      and your eyes do my smile
           and your smile does my eyes;
You tell me that technically every colour exits,
   even if we cannot see it,
   even if we cannot imagine it –

For think of it now.
          Imagine in your head a colour that does not exist.
                    Now describe it to me.
Is it a splash of red with tints of a yellowy-blue?
Is it a pinky-purple hue,
    a hint of green, turquoise, maroon, sapphire, olive, violet?
Does it already exist in colours we already have names for,
      have we lived so long that every thought we think is no longer our own,
            every thought we think has been thought of before,
I think of you in colours that don’t exist
   but so has everyone else.

We cannot see it,
      we cannot imagine it.
But if we cannot imagine something that does not exist
   simply because we are confined to describing it
      in the words of an already existent language,
   what does that say about us?
We can imagine a waterfall of chocolate,
       a glass elevator bursting through the roof;
   shrinking potions and growing potions and talking rabbits.
We can imagine standing on the top of a building
      looking out over the greying city lights
            with lungs full of water
            a noose round our necks
            and the sole belief in our heads that we are jumping to fly
We can rewrite the future and make up the past
We can imagine wizards and witches and fairies and goblins
We have unicorns, ******* it,
     we have God.

And yet when I present to you a lover,
   an artist,
      standing in front of you now,
         yearning to make you his canvas,
You are too scared to fall in love,
              too scared to admit that you don’t have the words in your encapsulating little language to describe the things that you feel towards him.
For he does not need language,
   he does not need words.
He will stand here now,
   in front of you,
      and let you grace his collarbones with a diamond noose,
                          crown his withered corpse in a wreath of daisies,
                          dress his bones in slashes of rubies.
He will tear himself apart for you,
     for you,
     for you to watch galaxies flow out of his veins,
  velvet red blood screaming unwritten poetry,
  a torrent of unimagined colours pouring into him and out of him
          and with his one last remaining breath
              and a trembling hand,
he picks up his paintbrush
      and draws you into orbit,
  and like his fingers used to trace your shattered ribcage
    like the keys of an ivory piano,
he traces the outline of your lips.
And at last you draw breath,
         to whisper his name, to whisper your love, and all that remains
   is silence.
And you choke on the air and sound is still
         for all words exist so none can be spoken and suddenly everything
   is black.
And I think of you in colours that don’t exist
     like the wolf howls in lament of the side of the moon he will never see
          for all colours exist, and when I think of you,
there are none.

                                                      *-j.­s.

~
O Painter
with thy own eye
                        would thee
paint me in mine own natural hue
prithee paint me as i am,
imperfections
            and blemishes true

Load thy brush
                      with colors sundry
to maketh yond first pure sweep
across the ****** frieze,
fill'd with pangs of hunger.
paint me as i standeth
                  bethought, in deep

With mine own love and mine own desire,
blurring the edges unclean
with mine own regrets
                  and mine own mental gyre,
in mine own natural age,
               of deep forest green

O Painter
Paint me sinister turquoise,
in lavender and maroon,
combine the amethyst and amber
blend the iceberg
       and the indigo moon.

Paint me as i standeth,
       prithee see with thy eye
a mistress in yond lady plight
Prithee paint me all i am
i cullionly
a mistress in all yond lady might

Paint me in the optimistic
                             silv'r of dawn,
but don’t miss the purple
to shade the bruise
                              of the bygone.
paint me in the sky blue journal

O Painter
Paint me as a unique template
smudge black white and grizzled
merging all the colors of thy palette.
col'r me a rainbow
                            in a rainy drizzle

Paint me tall so yond i standeth
loftier than any mountain
Paint me as a dram bird, delicate
with soft feathers silken

Paint me harmony, as a violin
so yond i can sing thy solitary tune
paint me as thy poetry
         with song and melody
wrapp'd in a cocoon

O Painter
paint me as a dream yond rises
                               in did saturate colors
with a steady upbeat flight awry
tint, a fluttering
             of a quite quaint butterfly

Portray me with endurance
imbue so bold and bright
doth not hesitate
                to depict mine own mind
in profound fuchsia and white.

Useth the colors yond thee would borrow
Thy palette not yet exsufflicate
Paint mine own loss and mine own sorrow
in search of a shade so ******

Adorn mine own heart in glowing garnet
at which hour thee paint mine own love
add a true broken blue shade
of the cloud and the rain above;

Study mine own dry sorrow
                              in mine own soul
useth any shade thee plaited
soften the edges of control
in a tinge of xanthene.

O Painter
Prithee paint me
Mine own passion and mine own spirit
shall has't a crimson r'd hint
mine own remorse and mine own regret
shall reflect an ink stain print

Paint me in mine own eye so true
O Painter
but add a dash of courage too
~