I long since discarded from my ouevre, which Alan and I always jokingly called my "Admitted Poems," that little blank verse at the conclusion of the afore essay for Michael. But although I have about as much faith in the efficacy of my prayer as I do in the Easter Bunny, it's like Pascal's Wager, it can't hurt. So I have now earned plenary indulgences six years in a row. Here are four of them, and this time, I think Mikey's little poem will last on the shoulders of its brothers:
Four Dispensations
I.
My dear Lord, today is All Souls’ Day,
and the Church offers plenary indulgence
to those who attend High Mass, who tend the graves
of their forebears and confess their grievous sins.
A mercy to be claimed or given away,
it is my gift to Michael Donaghy.
II.
My dear Lord, today is All Souls’ Day,
and I pray for the soul of David Miller
whose son heard my confession just last night.
Today I shall attend my father’s grave,
and I’ll complete a plenary indulgence
for a farmer who treated me like a son.
III.
My dear Lord, today is All Souls’ Day,
and I pray for the soul of my late father
at whose grave I bury the AA medal
which marks nine months of my sobriety.
Let him forgive me all my indiscretions,
and Lord, let him behold your countenance.
IV.
My dear Lord, today is All Souls’ Day.
I hold a box of ashes in my lap,
Alan’s. I hope he needs no prayers from me,
but I from him? That is another matter.
His last words to my face were an act of mercy:
“Know when I die, that we are reconciled.”
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