Chapter 25
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want (From
the beach you can hear the bulldozers, proud, pompous, snorting.
They view with cool disdain the obstructions of mere nature,
and are anxious to begin snuffling up dirt for corduroy
trails that engineers will build for the transport of supplies.)
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures (Here
is the vigilant sentry on guard at post number six.
The password is given and he motions you on, saying:
"Better crawl between here and the beginning of jungle growth.
If the Japs see you coming they'll wait in ambush."
You get down and proceed on your elbows and knees,
pushing aside the tall grass and scattering its shaken dust.
The stationary blocks of functionless air give way before you,
and the sunlight vibrates into jagged sparks of spurting shudders,
and greenness is peeled back to reveal its muddy rind
like the core of a rotten fruit the earth discarded.)
He leadeth me beside the still waters (You are passing
a sluggish stream hiding its brackish content under slimy plants,
and little whirlpools rise to the surface in floating bubbles.
Animals, lithe and robust, dive from their own established altitudes
down into the dank and bleary shoal of murkiness
and splash about in the ebb of its tideless estuaries.)
He restoreth my soul (This is the time when greatness
in a man reveals its chemistry. You have no greatness
of your own, and if Lindstrom or Egan or Whitney
have none to spare, then borrow from those who have,
and offer your promissory note to a civilian named God.)
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His
name's sake (The beginning of thick jungle land is reached
and the men straighten themselves up and move into it.
This is the place where heat and fire were born.
Before you came you didn't believe what others told you,
but now you can't believe the things you tell yourself.
The winding trail is a ragged ribbon of glue-mouthed mud
which varies in depth from your ankle to your knee.
The sound it makes is like a malicious child's prattle
as it leads an unsuspecting stranger on with nonsensical babbling,
and then, with a breathless giggle, it disappears from view.
But trails aren't safe anyhow, and Lindstrom gestures for the
group to begin hacking its way through the twisted undergrowth.)
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow
of death (Here's where you cross the doormat of purgatory.
Your arms swing and your legs are raised and lowered,
but the rest of your body seems lost and insensate
to the thicket's keen talons and the earth's watchful summary
of your life's remaining footfalls. To die here and still
go to hell would be too damned hard to take.)
I will fear no evil for Thou art with me
(Lindstrom cautions, "Keep your eye on me, and if you
see me go down, it won't be from gravity, so
hit the dirt." He carries himself erect, like a battleflag,
and you know that he's worth his weight in cigarettes.)
Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me (All you
can do is push ahead into the unknown, the jungle
primary, virgin and original, into the steaming and festering cavity
until your mind swoons and totters from its pendant cord
and your clothes hang from your bones in tattered shreds
and your skin gathers to itself all the assorted refuse
of ground and air and water and shrub and animal.)
Courage is fear singing a hymn arranged for four voices.
