Thursday, December 13, 2012
Lucy: light on a mountain
I'm posting this today from my LUCY'S PLAY, because today is St. Lucy's day.
It was performed in the Traverse in 1986, directed by Jenny Killick, with a lovely cast including Kate Duchene as Lucy, Ida Schuster as Celia and the Mother of God, and Simon Scott as Pedro.
Sadly, Simon passed away recently so this is also in tribute to him.
Light in a dark world.
Help me find my son.
There are no children here.
He wasn't a child. He was a man.
He had dark hair and bright green eyes.
And when he laughed, you had to laugh with him.
When he wept, you had to weep too.
But he was too good for this world.
They strung him up and they killed him.
And after they'd done that they even stole his corpse.
And now his picture's everywhere. I see it in all the churches. I run to each one, hoping to find him. But they're all fakes. Every one of them.
The things that are done in his name must surely make him weep. But if I could find him, I'd wipe away his tears.
I'd embrace him in my arms and we'd be whole again. Then I'd be happy.
And so I travel from town to town, and my back is sore and my feet are just one big mass of blisters and I'm getting tired.
I'm just about ready to leave this place altogether but I tell myself he must be somewhere. Must be.
And I have to laugh at some of the statues. Statues of me.
Awful sentimental. I mean if they knew what I'm really like they'd run a mile. I know they would. And the pictures. Of him and me. In the worst possible taste. Him and his wee willie. And they're nothing like him. Nothing at all.
I mean he was nice enough as a baby, don't get me wrong, I loved him, but he was a wee terror just the same. And at night he was terrible. Wouldn't let me sleep a wink. On at me all the time. Pawing at me. Like he wanted to suck me dry. And when he got bigger he was worse. Talking all the time. Never a minute's peace. About the law. And the prophets. Couldn't understand a word. And the son of man.
Said he was the son of man. I told him he wasn't the son of man, he was my own son and he could he no just leave us alone?
But o no. It was Moses. And the ark of the covenant. At the age of three. And when you're his mother you've got to take an interest.
Wore me out, he did. I was glad enough to see him leave home. And then I missed him. The house seemed that empty with him gone. So off I went. On the road. At my age. Bethesda. Gennesaret. Capernaum. All they places. And he spoke like an angel.
Everyone came to see him. Everyone for miles.
His voice was the loveliest thing you ever heard. Listening to it you felt like you'd give up everything, everything you ever had just to hear him for always. People did. Good people. My friends.
And then they took him away and they hung him.
And I lost him again. My heart still bleeds.
Have you no seen him?
No. He isn't here. He's never been here.
And you must go too. You're in danger.
There's going to be a war. I can feel it in my bones.
And I want to stop it.
But nothing I do makes any difference,
And nothing I do makes any sense.
Don't despair my love. You are Lucy, light on the mountain.
If you have light, do you hide it under a bucket? Do you cover it up with a stone?
No. You put it high on a hillside,
Where everyone can see it. You can't help it.
And you can't put it out. It's in the nature of light.
It was Him who taught me that. Don't forget.
And don't lose hope. Peace will come.
The good you do is never lost.
Remember, Lucy. Never forget.
Subscribe to Posts [Atom]