Writ April 14

Writ April 14,
Some time after Midnight

“Maybe there’s a place for me in this,
Maybe there’s a life I should not miss,”
I wash across these days
hit one by one
but all together
Was said, “Even if all my bones are broken,
I will drag myself back from the edge…”
Thought it was me,
Or at the very least embodied in text;
____________We will see.
As the days wash over me.
It is late. I should sleep.
I cannot now mass produce the art as I once did,
_____________________________________nor should I,

But it is calling me
I am compelled.
The eyes of my head
___Still swim as they once did
___As the days wash over me
I am compelled.
To you who are silent,
I feel compelled, though I know I am not.
It really is late.
At the very least I am compelled by myself.
The quiet grows loud.
It is dark and cold and
I am compelled,
As the days wash over me,
And I look back and see
Where am I supposed to be?
Old tendencies*

But more recently,
What can I make of this grand project,
Now abandoned so, collecting dust?
Needs some reworking; another touch but,
Is it too grand for me?
A step past knowledge and insensitivity.
Must the format change?
Can I even keep up,
Frustrating, grand, rearrange,
Research required, the work and pain.
So much has changed now,
The map is different
Internal landscapes shifted,
What can, after all this, remain?
Or will it instead collect dust.
Or will I open up again this novel tome
And hide away as I work,
Let liberally the pen roam?

Few more days, counting down,
The world will not stabilize for weeks and I
Will end as I started,
On The Harbor, in the dark,
Wondering about our silence,
And my compellation
And it is cold
And soon I will sleep
And spring is coming
And I will wake too late in the day,
But I will still do what I must,
Eventually.

Daniel Triumph.

By the time you read this, it will be one day after my final exam.
What next?

Chabrais son of Lakritos, and the Burial of his Parent

This is something I wrote for a course on Aspects of Greek Death. I’m not sure how interesting it will be for those who haven’t studied Greek funerary ritual, however, it got fairly good marks, so you never know. I’ve used brackets to clarify certain terms.

We’ll have some better work after exams finish. For now, here’s a funeral.

Chabrais son of Lakritos was a twenty-five year old Athenian man. He had a younger brother who helped his father with their farming estate. He himself, frustrated with his father’s poor planning and management methods, chose instead to learn a craft. He worked within the city in 565 BC, about a generation after Solon’s laws came into place. Chabrais worked as a pottery maker, primarily making containers for grain, water, and other household items. It was through his work; especially though selling cinerary urns, ardanion miasma use (vase for holding water to clean “miasma,” or spiritual uncleanliness caused by corpses), and other pots; that he learned about people’s frustrations with the new funerary laws.

Lakritos came to visit Chabrais, seeming very agitated. He told Chabrais of his shock that he could not find the professional mourners he sought in the city. Chabrais stated that new laws had forbade their memorized lamentations, and even the attending of a funeral or prothesis (the laying out and mourning of a body in the home before the funeral) that was not of one’s family. Then, he asked what reason his father had for hiring mourners. Lakritos moaned, saying that his wife Melitta, Chabrais’s mother, had unexpectedly died of illness the day before.

“There is no woman to wash her, there is no woman to mourn her!”

Chabrais was shocked, but he composed himself. He knew of his father’s unreliability, so asked who was taking care of the body, and learned that it was his younger brother. His father had evidently not contacted the rest of the family.

Chabrais said, “We cannot have the body unwashed and disgraced, or the gods will certainly make our shameful situation even more difficult. The laws have limited prothesis; the ekphora (funeral procession) must begin tomorrow before sunrise! You must return and wash her, and clothe her, and then prepare offerings. Meanwhile, I will seek out my aunts and uncles and cousins, and we will have a proper mourning.”

Chabrais went to three of his extended families and brought the news to them one by one. Most promised, due to the suddenness, to come to Lakritos’s home before sunrise for the ekphora. Only one, Lakritos’s eldest brother Simon, a man dedicated to nomos (the unwritten law of the gods, as opposed to the written law of man), chose to return with Chabrais. He brought his wife and daughters, and insightfully sent his son to purchase a coffin.

The body was on a bier, washed and wrapped in linen when they arrived. As everyone settled around the body, the women began an improvised lamentation. Lakritos, prodded by Simon, began beating his chest. The rest of the men joined in, crying out and hitting their heads and chests. The woman as well, while continuing their goös (spontaneous mourning song), tore at their hair and scratched their skin. The lamentation continued late into the night.

A few hours before morning, the other families arrived. Chabrais realized that they had not hired anyone to carry the bier to the grave. Simon stated that this was not a problem; that the men of the family would do the pall-bearing. Chabrais and his brother took the back of the bier, and two of their cousins took the front. The rest of the men carried the coffin, and offerings, including a caged fowl. Some men, especially Lakritos, carried nothing. Their hands were left free for mourning.

They moved out through the city, heading towards the exit. The men led the small procession, and the women followed behind, closer to the body. Chabrais’s father stayed near the head of his wife and acted as the chief mourner, keeping the lamentation going as they walked through Athens.

They came to their family plot outside the city and the men dug a grave and then placed Melitta’s corpse inside the coffin and sealed it. They lowered the coffin in to the grave. Chabrais handed his father the offerings to place inside: flasks of oil and water, as well as the fowl, which was slaughtered and placed inside. The immediate family cut their hair and dropped locks in. They buried the coffin, and then Chabrais handed wine to his father, who poured all of it over the grave as a choē (like a libation, but the entire liquid is poured out).

The family returned to Lakritos’s home and prepared and ate a large feast, a perideipnon, in honour of his wife, where Lakritos, Chabrais, and Simon delivered eulogies to the passed wife and mother. Afterwards, Chabrais reminded his father to wash the home with seawater, and that those inside the house must wash the miasma off of themselves—each with fresh water. Then, Chabrais and the other families returned home to bathe themselves.

Well, you have officially been subjected to homework…if you got this far. This is pretty accurate to classical Greek funerary practice. As you can see, the Greeks were rather weird, and had a very specific process for dealing with their dead.

Daniel Triumph.

Shade the Past

In the shade, stand, of my life,
I used to run but no more
I had teeth. Given weapons
To turn against their owners.
I used to.

In the shade, little room, like a cage
Walls of stone, window, light filters in,
And I avoid it, sit, don’t strain
My eyes. I don’t want to see.
I don’t.

In the shade, standing, look, through leaves,
Cross the grounds, a visitor, for the owner.
No, not for me, no, go away, no, wait
Who is this, woman, dressed grandly,
Steps off the path, toward me.
Can I hide

From the shade, look, I recognize,
Saved her life, escape in the night.
Why is she here? How did she find me?
“Why hello there young lady,
is the property owner in?”
Nod to her, and then, “Mother?”
I strain.

She smiles.
Finger to lips, leans in, whispers,
“Returning a favour.” Gives a sacchrine laugh.
Steps back. I reach out. “Wait.”
She takes my hand. The past echos in.
And then, “We have a bit of business to get to.”

Daniel Triumph.

Part of the vaguely connected stories of Alexandre Dirge. I haven’t ironed all the details but Dirge’s Second Operation would precede this piece, and Wraith Hail would follow it.

P.S.: This piece was released a day late from the regular Thursday schedule. Sorry about that, it’s exam season :[

Losing to the Dog

Sometimes you notice the loss
Other times it notices for you, it’s obvious
A new absence not as easily noticed as
A new presence.

Walking my dog in the park,
The path was repaved
Sometimes you notice the loss
Of our favourite tree
Other times it notices for you, it’s obvious
Just a stump now, signs of rot inside
A new absence not as easily noticed as
The path was repaved
A new presence.

Returned home.
Was something stolen?
Sometimes you notice the loss,
Valuables are all still here, electronics too.
Other times it notices for you, it’s obvious
to the dog, who paws at his bowl. Out of food.
A new absence not as easily noticed as
An unhappy pet that led to it.
Sometimes you notice the loss

Sometimes you notice the loss
My dog was very dismayed.
Other times it notices for you, it’s obvious
To him that I won’t visit the store until tomorrow.
A new absence not as easily noticed as
What happened when I left to room for a moment.
A new presence.
My pet pooped on the floor.

Sometimes
it’s obvious
A new easily noticed
presence.

 

Daniel Triumph.

This was an exercise in repetition. it sort of ended in a dumb punchline, but I hope it was fun nonetheless.

The Party Guest

“Hey, thanks for showing up to the party! Sorry it’s not very exciting—oh, hang on, it looks like the mayonnaise has run out. Why don’t you sit here and talk to Joe until I come back? He’s really interesting.”

“Sure.” He watched his friend leave, and then turned to Joe. “…So, your name is Joe? Is that short for Joseph?”

“Look yourself in the eyes and tell me if that isn’t the truth of the matter.”

“Umm, okay, I suppose you’ve…got a point there? Where do you work, then?”

“I single drop of water is little worry, but over a trillion drops fall in an average downpour—”

“Oh, let me guess, sewage? No wait, it’s really water treatment, isn’t it. Or perhaps you work on the lake? Drive the ferry?”

“—and I am the one they call when any of those drops breach the ceiling of their homes or businesses.”

“Oh, you do roofs? What,” He felt that by now Joe warranted a bit of poking-fun-at, “How is communication with your coworkers like?”

“In every situation there are positives and negatives. When the going gets tough, the tough set up camp and wait out the storm.”

“Hmm. So, where are you from?”

“There is a place far beyond the eye can see, a great distance beyond the sea—”

“Oh, you’re European or something?”

“—but if you go beyond such a place for long enough, eventually you will return right here, where you started. It’s a phenomenal side effect of—”

“Circular reasoning.”

“—the reality of travel around a point of great mass. Under the original conception of the metre, such a trip would theoretically be forty-million metres in distance. Any yet, I’m from a place only forty-thousand metres north of here.”

“Oh yeah, that city.” He found it interesting that Joe paused mid-sentence whenever interrupted, then continued afterwards as if nothing had happened. “Is there anything you wanted to ask me?”

“Of course, I have a less than infinite number of questions I could ask you, and even less that I would like the answers to. Perhaps what I long most to know, however, is something whose question you do not have the answer to. I will therefore assume that you would like an question to whose answer you have knowledge. Since we are riding on that—”

“Yes, I think it’s perfectly fair to assume that.” He couldn’t help himself.

“—assumption, I will ask you about the mayonnaise. Why do you think that devilled eggs are made with mayonnaise, which is in turn made also from eggs? Does this not strike you as odd? An overlapping of the same flavour?”

He wondered if Joe thought his brain was so mundane that this was the only sort of question that he could answer. “Nah, flavours can match up. That’s why people will cook a roast and then use the drippings for it as gravy. It all works in the food world.”

Joe seemed genuinely surprised.

Their friend returned and said, “How’s it going you two? Isn’t Joe interesting? What do you think of my friend, Joe?”

“Every once in a while, you come to a bend in the road. Other times, it’s a fork. Now suddenly, thanks to your friend, I have found myself in front of such a fork, and I’ve realized that I must now use it to investigate mayonnaise.”

Hoping this sort of over-the-top dialogue exercise is found to be interesting…and maybe also funny 😛

(This was a submission to my Creative Writing course as well.)

Daniel Triumph.