The White Door by Stephen Chan

Author:Stephen Chan [Stephen Chan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780954626860
Publisher: nthposition press
Published: 2012-07-30T16:00:00+00:00

And this was how he did it on that Saturday afternoon before his garden, having composed himself and entered himself and summoned the White Warrior and made him pristine and sent him off around the world. It was hard to reach the other side, it was hard to reach the father, harder still to enter him, and he could not construct the necessary narrative, and in Kent his injured knees were hurting and when he finally entered the father, he could only play three images and he played them over and over and they intercut and he thought these were the last strobe-light visions of his father, the living linking parts were being excised.

1. He saw the White Warrior face-to-face with his father. The father’s back was to his camera and the shot was framed from the upper back rising, and the father had in his soul not lost weight and was the hearty father of his memory and the Warrior was looking into that part where his father’s eyes would have faced him and they could not yet have been death eyes for the Warrior was speaking to him with his eyes and the two men would bring their right forearms together over and over and, in Kent, he was thinking ‘this is the edge of the honey plain, but the Warrior cannot cross to this side of the bridge,’ but it was not the honey plain, merely its precursor as the dying soul imagines where it is shortly to go.

2. The camera has moved back now. We see more of the precursor plain. The warrior son is bowing and sweeping his arm – strange, it is his useless left arm – in the direction of an unseen bridge. Then the image cuts and plays again, then cuts again, then the two men are in close-up once more reading words in each other’s eyes and making arms clash in that futile last gesture that says love has the strength of well bodies. It is a muscular farewell, the poetry is what they say with their eyes and the camera cannot record something so reserved.

3. The son holds the reins of the white horse. When he strokes its nuzzle, reins disappear. In the mouth of the last blue cavern of life’s fountain, they are standing. There is an upwards curving hewn-stone bridge across a chasm in the stars and some full moon is in the great heaven, and the bridge leads to a small land of stone and from there the bridges lead across the outcrops of the honey plain until they come to the well-lit sunlit plain itself. The image of the moon and the mouth of the last cavern and the white horse plays over and over. In Kent, the Patient Heart embraces summer air the shape of his father. In the long cloud-strewn islands of the south the father, back still to the camera, faces the White Warrior who gestures towards the horse and the white horse

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