ASKESIS

The dark night of the Soul

From the shore of ancient spectres

I gathered my tragic melancholy.

I needed to perform an agnostic dumb-show

with my eyes of rust laden balls

but conscience prevented me.

An aquarium is my mind.

My body’s Africa:

a congested breath of negritude

heavy with colourful myths

patched together along my journey.

Oh dark night of the Soul,

draped in dew assaulting

my restfulness.

Barefoot I entered:

a stranger in a temple

of naves tasting of dampness

tremendous caverns obscuring God.

What is this sobbing the columns convey?

Why is the sanctuary lamp no longer burning

in front of the Weeping Christ?

Mario Azzopardi

Translated by Patricia Gatt