Cetus and Jonah’s Lament
“And Jonah was extremely happy about the plant. But God
appointed a worm when dawn came the next day, and it
attacked the plant and it withered.” —Jonah 4.5
When I think now of you, great Cetus—Whale—
And me inside such times so long ago;
How I survived’s a miracle at all—
Under whose Presence I think, we both know.
But there you are, up there, still shining hard,
Not indigested by my wraith within
Your sturdy frame, me babbling as I’m wont
To do, obsessed with trespass and my sin.
How glorious are the stars, and how they shine:
Their lights no darkness ever snuffs or dims;
And through the figures of the night sing out
One sonic, long and everlasting hymn
Of praise—could we but hear their sound (not just
Glimpse their light) what healing would there be!
And I could leave sad Nineveh at last—
Though they are glad: of mercy more than me;
For I—beneath this withered tree—am fixed,
Trying to understand just what went wrong:
I preached the word, as faithful as I ought,
Why, then, was not destruction released, sprung?
Who knows the mind of that great One above
Who no-one calculates, or can upset
His plans—those plans for good, and plans for life?
How hard the sun beats, as rain is not yet;
But hard as the sun is, but harder still’s
That destiny not wanted, entertained—
So unlike Cetus’: you abroad—at sea—
Across the vast sky your bright outline’s veined,
And you exactly are where you should be.
But me? Still here, in failure uppermost;
They laugh and mock the prophet whom God sent;
On Earth your opposite—no sign, but lost.
So, waiting, waiting, how long must I wait?
What in Your purpose needs must I endure?
Then I remember those guts I was in:
Their acid’s cleansing, stripping, making pure;
And how from spew, albino-white, washed up,
You gave me voice to wander and astonish:
Women and men who knew not left from right
But saw quite clearly, remains from the fish
That shone celestial. Wait I will, then wait
Some more: for this I know—that He who made
That mighty whale, upheld him in the sky,
As if one small finger poised his full weight,
Will turn at the appointed time for me.
Yes, He will turn, and His eyes will behold:
His man from out the whale’s stuck misery—
Softly, I’ll hear Him whisper … truth be told.
Poet’s Note: Cetus, the Whale, is one of the largest constellations in the sky, lying near Aquarius, Pisces, and Eridanus. Visible from both hemispheres, it’s best seen from late autumn to early winter, using Taurus and Orion as guides. Though later known as a sea monster slain by Perseus in Greek myth, Cetus likely began as a mythic whale—a creature of awe and mystery for the ancient Mesopotamians who first looked up and named it.
James Sale has had over 50 books published, most recently, “Mapping Motivation for Top Performing Teams” (Routledge, 2021). He has been nominated by The Hong Kong Review for the 2022 Pushcart Prize for poetry, has won first prize in The Society of Classical Poets 2017 annual competition, and performed in New York in 2019. He is a regular contributor to The Epoch Times. His most recent poetry collection is DoorWay. For more information about the author, and about his Dante project, visit https://englishcantos.home.blog. To subscribe to his brief, free and monthly poetry newsletter, contact him at [email protected]
