A day comes
when the mouth grows tired
of saying “I”.
Yet it is occupied
still by a self that must speak
Jane Hirshfield
I wish it were I
Who wrote this poem:
Spare
Like a Japanese long sword.
Centered.
True to its reason for being.
But somebody else
Crafted and honed it.
Can I make it my own?
I would write a translation!
But try as I might,
I am unable
To reforge this poem
In another language.
I find that its strength
Cannot be extricated
From the words it is made of,
From their multiple meanings
Folding and melding
Across the lines.
I will seize this poem,
I will learn it by heart,
Enlighten my listeners
As I recite it,
Cut through the ignorance
Of my opponents.
But what really happens
Is that the poem,
True to its purpose,
Slices deeply
Into my own
Self.
I gasp,
Laugh ruefully,
Watch the blood
Well up and run freely.
I am the Keeper of the Keys. I am the one who unlocks and locks the portals of all the worlds, greets everyone who enters, and wishes good fortune to everyone who leaves.
Yes, you have been here; you have met me before, and more than once. That’s how I know your name and remember that you like lemon balm tea with a touch of clover honey. You yourself are the one who told me your story – the story of your city, Naori-Laaren – the reason why you are looking for the fugitive Alalli. If you survive your next journey, if you are able to come back, we will see each other again, and I will be glad.
Of course not! I practice no dark magic, no magic of any kind. But when you are not here, when you are in one of the worlds where your fate unfolds, I do not exist in your time and space, so there is no one to remember. Then, I am merely an image from a dream, a nameless feeling that arises within you when you smell lemon balm and clover honey.
I am sorry to deny your plea. But no, I will not do this. The Keeper of the Keys may not detain or mislead anyone, may not pass any message from one traveler to another.
Now you speak in frustration, in anger. But deep inside yourself you know that your words are unjust. I do believe you, and I do understand what will befall your city, if you fail in your errand. Pain and destruction, no matter where they strike, do grieve me. But the one who is entrusted with the keys may not cross the threshold in word or deed without breaking the laws that make it possible to unlock and to lock. The Keeper of the Keys must open each door when the time comes. It is my duty to greet equally everyone who enters and with the same blessing bid farewell to everyone when they go. I must leave each traveler, each world to their own fate.
