Canzone

There is a Renaissance painting of paradise In which people, still in their human bodies, Are embracing as if they'd just arrived in paradise Or—because some are angels—were being welcomed to paradise. Nobody in the picture looks like a ghost. Even the angels, winged for paradise, Wear embraceable bodies. It seems that paradise For Giovanni di Paolo is a place of happy reunions. And now, when we anticipate reunions Like those in every moment, paradise Is not exactly the place we hope to arrive. It's been made complicated—that arrival. Our destination is where we hope to arrive. Simple enough but now a paradox, Since now we cannot be certain of our arrival And have to pray simply that we arrive. And of course we hope to arrive in our human bodies, The ones we've always known since our arrival On earth, the ones for which there are no rivals Imaginable, except as an Italian ghost Has painted them. But who wants to be a ghost, Even if it means being part of a revival, Even in such a classic, reunited As form and content, body and soul's reunion? Let's face it, only the hardiest can see union With art as a satisfying arrival. For most of us, our daily lives unite Our needs for love and work. And their smooth union Is, come to think of it, a blissful paragon, A reason to tell the partner of our union, Talking about our day over dinner, united In crunching through bread and salad, of our body's Desire to be united with their body. It's a good day that ends with such a union. And though we might still love each other's ghost And say so, what we desire is not a ghost. What we desire is both the flesh and ghost, The full consort together, the living union. We know that's health. We know that this new ghost Of rumor and apprehension is a ghost Like the horizon line, always arriving. And now we have to live with the kind of ghost That gives a bad name to every ghost— I mean to every airy sense of paradise Where the good—which should mean all of us—find paradise, Despite the blemishes we've stuck to our ghosts. It all comes back, doesn't it, to the body? We wish we'd never have to leave our bodies. Or have to leave the way we think of our bodies. Giovanni clothes the heavenly in the ghost Of class and calling. He paints no naked bodies, Despite our expectations of the body In heaven, restored to a primeval union With innocence and ignorance. He says we'll be those bodies Identified as us, and so we'll dress our bodies As we have understood them. Maybe after arriving We'll come to understand that to arrive In heaven is to embrace a hidden body. After all, this is but an interpretation of paradise, Which says we bring our world with us to paradise. I'm glad Giovanni di Paolo saw the arrival Of souls in paradise as a time for reunion, And not merely a mingling of bodiless ghosts. I wish I could believe in that promise of paradise As deeply as I believe in this mortal body.