Three times now have I read these words divine,
and sought the signs for what Love speaks within.
Though oft I could not call this insight mine,
My utterance of heart is pure and true:
I will to plumb the depths of mind of him who
’scribes these words upon the page so fluidly,
Imploring all who take them to consider
their states of soul and heart and intelletto.
The Place between Damnation and Perfection
Is where the reader sees the Poet’s turn
from death unto salvation. But before
he makes the leap from curse to Griffin,
He listens to and marvels at each soul
abiding on the mount of penitence.
Cato, Manfred, lax Belacqua: those who
died by violence (such as Pia); all repent
upon their death and thus reside below
The stairs to Peter’s Gate. The steps themselves
are counted three: Confess, Repent, Amend—
Each one a rung to Paradise, the Pilgrim
must tread all; and at the gate a holy guard
imprints the P’s upon the peccant brow.
Begging mercy, asking passage, Dante
enters through the gate as the angel tells him
“Wash from your face the wounds when you’re within.”
Ascending the next terrace the Poet
(with his guide Virgil, he who gave his pupil
hope and held a glowing lamp unto his feet)
Encounters proud and weary Christians bearing
stones upon their shoulders, compelling them
to bow, for they in life refused. And then
The Envious, eyes sewn shut, are weeping,
praying that grace may melt the film of sin away
and purify their hearts of love amiss.
Last of those who loved their neighbor wrongly
are the Wrathful, shrouded in smoke that they
might win their freedom from the knot of anger.
Having now been cleansed of two of seven P’s,
the Poet climbs to middle Purgatory
and learns of those who loved deficiently.
Within the ring of Sloth are those who saw
but did not move; instead they lingered in
the ease of wanting rather than pursuing
The Love that gratifies. To purge themselves
of their shortcoming, the Slothful run unceasing—
for zeal in well-doing makes grace green again.
The Pilgrim slips into a sleep so deep
he won’t be roused and dreams into existence
a Siren, grotesque at first, then lovely.
Self-inflicted sin seducing sinner,
the Siren made beautiful by Dante’s own
imagination… Three times calling, Virgil
Wakes him, saying, “Arise and walk!” and they
go forth to find the passageway ahead
and scale the highest slopes of the mountain.
Here the souls of Avaricious men lie prostrate,
cleaving to the dust and uttering words
nigh inscrutable to those who hear them.
Since they did not restrain themselves when living,
they now lie shackled to the ground, completing
penance for their earthly iniquity.
Keeping to the right along the mountain’s
outer rim, the Pilgrim comes upon the
Gluttonous. Each face worn thin with hunger,
The souls suffer what they would not bear in life;
and though their true disio was for Him
who grants one’s deepest yearnings, they failed to
Glory in his providence and thus fell short.
And as an angel blesses those who thirst,
Dante discovers only two remaining
P’s and so continues up the mountain.
Reaching at last the terrace of the Lustful,
the final step before the top, Dante
Finds himself the witness of the souls consumed
in flames to match the concupiscent burning
felt in life. Immobilized by fear, he
Can’t go on, nor will he, till Virgil utters
“Beatrice.” After sleeping as a goat
watched by his keeper, Dante awakes, and
The Pilgrim and his guide surmount the peak
to behold with heightened sight the Earthly
Paradise. Within that selva divina
Lie two rivers: First the Lethe, to remove
the memory of sin and then Eunoe
to replace the P’s with virtue and restore
The soul to peace. Looking across the streams,
Dante witnesses the Pageant of the
Sacrament, a wondrous queue of holy souls
Captivated by the majesty of Christ.
Behold, Beatrice! The love lost so
many years ago stands finally before
the Pilgrim. Mute with awe, he turns to speak
To Virgil, but, alas—his guide is vanished.
“Do not weep,” bids Beatrice, “but look at me.”
Recounting Dante’s life to him, the Lady
Asks him why he did not before repent; but
left with no sufficient answer, he stands
ashamed. But with Christ there is forgiveness
And a perfect newness, and Dante drinks of
both the Lethe and Eunoe. Purified
at last, deadened powers revived, the Poet
Emerges from the holy waters and
climbs a little higher towards the stars and
Paradise.
Bridling my pen now, for the verge of page
draws near, I contemplate the beauty held
between the leaves of this creation. The words,
I find, are far more than a gentle nudge
to goodness—they illustrate the need to
know and, even more, to act and not to
Tarry. To climb the steps before the gate
becomes our gran disio, that we might
find forgiveness in the arms of Love Himself.
-Lauren Hildreth
