Marginalia of the Scribe by James Harpur

Marginalia of the Scribe 
(from ‘Voices of the Book of Kells’)


Do words copied in anger dry and rot?
*
What use is a holy book
that can’t deter
the teeth of vermin
let alone the bite of swords?
*
I need light for copying
but everything light touches –
the lectern’s oak,
dead flies, thin smoke
of spiders’ webs –
distracts me from my task.
Outside, bees and wagtails,
whitethorn, apple, hazel,
remind me of the life
I crush 
to concentrate
on nibs and liquid soot.
*
I dedicate each day 
to snuffing out:
impatience, envy, pleasure;
my desire for a witness
to praise the work I’ve done. 
Must I tell the world:
‘Ecce, nemo!’
*
God made me
and all I am derives from Him.
He glories in creation.
If I create
does He not glory through me?
*
Another day
of rows of bloodless words.
The open door frames
a blackthorn by the wall
shading dandelions, grass.
My inkstrokes make
wild flowers on the page.
More and more
I copy less and less
and lose my purpose –
at any point 
a shout or scream or bell 
could mean the end
running at us.
*
Seed-floating sunshine
flash of black –
crows converge in flight,
nauseating cackles.
Stillness.
The peace of Ireland 
warms the room.
Light settles like an aura
on the rulered lines.

​

James Harpur has published five books of poetry and is a member of Aosdána. His latest book, Angels and Harvesters, was a PBS Recommendation and shortlisted for the Irish Times Poetry Prize. He lives in West Cork.

Weblinks:
​
http://www.jamesharpur.com
http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/poet/item/12503/30/James-Harpur
https://emiliashop.wordpress.com/2015/10/13/james-harpur-the-ascetic-of-light/

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