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Christopher Southgate

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The Upper Room

from the tree-trunk sculpture of that name by Colin Wilbourn on the riverbank below Durham Cathedral.

The river hauls itself round a slow
Corner, a mud-coloured plate on which
Reflections soften into laminar flow.
And that is time, gathering itself, time
Gathers quite slowly towards Jerusalem.

Durham offers many parables - the fortress
Church, the dark recesses of God
Into which dead saints are gathered.
And this household of shaved elms
By the river. The feast is quite simple -

Here are the vessels we each are, part-
Carved, sharing solidity with neighbours.
Rivalry of height is mocked by his
Sturdy sitting. On his left is Judas -
No vessel, but a window - through him

Every gale beyond Eden blows.
The world’s weight gathers massive
Upon a felled tree - time quickens
To a roar, drowning
Strange words of blessing.

After towel and pitcher time will be flung
To a climax. This is the house of now,
Ceasing to exist as the eleven leave,
The Master leading them,
And they sing their hearts away.

 

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