Purgatory. Verse One; Meeting Magdalen

This is a continuation of my retelling of the Divine Comedy, originally by Dante Alegheri. The story of how this project began may be found in the first book, which retells The Inferno more or less faithfully.

This book stays very close to Dante’s story, the landscape is similar, the symbolism distills to the same message, at least it does in my opinion. But it is told through the eyes of a woman in mid-life, taking her own inward journey and meeting significant cultural icons along the way. So here we go, back on the road.

There was music

It began to snow.

Chips of light floated in the air; the sun was rising. My path from here would lead forward. We had left behind the depths of sorrow and now turned toward clear and rushing waters. Now I can tell you about the places where we struggle to become more than what we are. The land was no longer a blank, dark, grey place. Once again, there was color in my life, however faint or muddy, the wide, bright relief of color.

Could I lift my voice as he had? Could I promise to sing? Could I mount praises to the muses and to Calliope?

Doubtful.

In that dark place, it had been enough to see. Here, more would be required of me. So here is the choice — to cast off the blanket of apathy and climb or stay rooted in place and choose to be static? Problem is, as long as you think and breathe, it truly is impossible to remain frozen in place. If you ask yourself “what kind of person do I want to be? The one who remains on the staircase or the one who goes up the mountain?” It’s not hard to pick. We choose to climb. Well, I did and I think you would too.

Cardinals, the heralds of Spring, began their song to the dawn. We were free of the dark.

And in the sky, the morning star still shone in a field of sapphire blue.

A welcome sight can restore the spirit as much as food or water restores the body — here, the two were the same thing. That clear and blissful blue restored my energy, lent strength to my resolve.

We were free.

The heavens seems to shelter us and far above I saw stars I had not seen before. We heard distant choirs singing in languages unknown to me. Yet this was not heaven, not a place of bliss.

Standing on the grassy field in which we lay, not far from us, was a slender woman. Her hair was long and white, her face, deeply lined. She stood in the starlight against the falling snow that settled like sparks on her linen robes. She was not beautiful but you could tell, she had been once.

Dignity and wisdom seemed to shine from her. I was comforted to see her.

And then she spoke, “Who are you? Did you escape from the land of the dead? If so, you may not stay here.” She was not unkind but she was firm.

“How did you get here? What wisdom led you away from that dark place where everyone stays the same, always. Was this a mistake? Is it your punishment to wander and then again to be cast down?”

I had never thought of that, I hoped not. I started to answer, to explain myself. My guide laid one hand on my shoulder and bade me be still. She spoke, “We do not come this way by force of will. A higher power sent me to this woman’s aid in her darkness.”

“But since you would know more, I will tell you how we have come and why.”

“She has not yet known death. Although through her thrashing and pleading for it, she has come close, so close a few times that I am honestly surprised she still remains among the living, so close, she doesn’t know it herself. She has sulked and begged, bled and neglected and her heart is all but finished. But I will give her this, she has never harmed herself. She has only wished for it. In Creation’s mercy, that wish was denied but had she continued as she was, soon it would have been granted and if it had not been granted, she may have caused it herself.”

“I have shown her those who did exactly that, and all the others frozen in their shame, their guilt and their dishonor. Now I mean to show her those who are in your keeping. Those who have done wrong, lost their way and yet still found the strength to go on and become new again. I am here to show her how to live because she seems to have forgotten it.”

“Our story is too long to tell but all creation gives permission to this — that a person may struggle to find her way and will be helped where help can come or at least be granted access to some knowledge that may guide her, if she listens.”

“You know some of those we met above, the ones who could not move for love. You knew their lives and loved them and for their sake I ask you to grant her passage here, across your seven counties.”

“Yes,” she answered, “I knew many, multitudes who fell to the arrows of passion and loved them. But here my memory is washed free of that pity. They chose to remain alive in that anguish. I can no longer cling to their memory. No prayer of theirs moves me, do not ask me favors on their behalf. I cannot grant them.”

She sighed and then said; “She may continue but she goes on by her own strength, with your guidance. I know of the prayers that brought you to her and she will learn through that misplaced love, even though it may bring her pain.

The surgeon’s blade brings the patient pain while it is healing. It will be just like that for her. She will feel it all.” Then she turned to me. “Do you know it?”

I nodded but I wondered if I really understood the agreement I had made. There was nothing to do about it, what would have happened if I said no? Sometimes, the only way a person can go is forward.

“Go then,” she said and told my Guide “but wash her face first and take the symbols of this place. You will tie a reed around her waist and there will be other signs. She’ll have to wear them all and anyone who knows about this place will know she is here only on sufferance.”

I started to object, anything that needed to be done was mine to do after all, this was my journey, my story, my book. I drew myself up to my full height to defend it but my Guide turned me round and silenced me. “It would not be right” she said, “for one so misguided, so coated in the grime of life, to appear in this place with that dirt still on her. You must admit, you haven’t done such a good job of washing it all away before.”

The tall woman turned and left. I saw the sun was rising. Over the hill, there was a crack in the clouds and from beneath it, the sun came streaming.

It was daybreak. It felt like years since we had seen the sun rise but it had only been a day.

My Guide and I could walk here, it was an open meadow. Ferns and moss grew everywhere but the brambles were gone. We walked across the open space to a hollow, just a little scooped out place where reeds grew in abundance.

Here, she knelt and balancing with one palm on a tuffet of soft green moss, she reached out and snapped off a single reed.

It regenerated instantly and she came to me and tied it around my waist, where it became a soft, green belt. A minor miracle, and mine to keep.