The Adventures of Diogenes the Cynic
2 – In which Diogenes encounters modern penitents


 
He got no chance for rest or breath
When he returned to life from death,
For as Diogenes was set down
Within a many-peopled town,
A riot of both sight and sound,
He could not choose but look around:
And as he looked, beheld a scene
As he was sure had never been.
He saw a church (of course he did)
That so to speak had blown its lid.
It seemed to swell with human mass
All vying through the doors to pass;
And down a more-than-city block
He saw unmoving as a rock
A line as for the newest fair.
His only answer was to stare.
According to the recent talk
(And Limbo had its gossip bloc)
Religion was in full decay
And churchiness had lost its sway.
A pious upswing at this date
Diogenes must investigate.
He turned to ask the person near.
“Good morning, Ma’am; the day is drear;
And what is more, I can’t divine
The reason for so great a line!” 
The liner-upper raised her gaze
Not unsurprised at such a phrase:
“It’s for confessing sins,” she sighed,
Whereat he looked from side to side.
“What’s this?” he cried. “The people here
Are come impelled by holy fear?”
Responding with an answer terse
She said the prior week was worse.
Diogenes could scarce converse.
“Hear I aright that week by week
The city’s pious and its meek
Do hither flock and pardon seek?”
His interlocutor replied
That this poor gaggle he espied
Was much reduced since the Decree.
Diogenes asked what this might be.
It seemed, she said, too frequently
And in unmanageable mass
The people passed the portals brass
To come to shrift and pardoned be;
The pastors asked the Chancery
To bring relief and so it was
Ordained that a judicious pause
Were meet between Confession times,
Though oftener for major crimes.
Herself had cut her schedule back
To once a week, a grievous lack.
Time was, she used to come this way
Ten or eleven times a day.
Diogenes was highly struck
That Earth should have so little truck
With the behavior that he knew
The people always used to do
When once he lived in Ancient Greece
(He ever did disturb their peace).
If he did not mistake the case
A revolution had took place;
The most unheard, unearthly thing
That sins should rise on frequent wing!
A vasty crowd prepared to be
Abased with self-accusing plea!
“Madam, I pray you overlook,
But curiosity has took
Me mind and soul, and I must know:
Which are the sins for which you go,
Wherefore your heart remorseful burns,
That here you wait in courteous turns?”
The woman looked at him surprised
And wondered he was so misprised.
“Remorseful heart?” she all but cried.
“What in this world so tall and wide
Would make you think that I am tied
With sins whose shriving I abide?
Dear me! dear sir! what splendid rot!
Not for myself is penance sought!
I bring the sins (they are a lot)
Of other people in my life.
I am, for one, a suffering wife
Whose husband won’t desist from crime,
But ever will the rug begrime,
Who often takes his mother’s side
And leaves my wishes blank defied;
The sins of him, my children too,
And all my in-laws ever do,
For suchlike sins I wait in line.
Confess my sins! They are not mine.”
Readers who know Diogenes
Will know that it was not with ease
He could be struck with such surprise
As not to speak but with his eyes.
He wandered down the line a-daze
And on the crowd cast wondering gaze.
Many were frowning over notes
And some had binders in their totes;
Smugness was writ on every face
And anger held its righteous place.
He shoved a bit to enter church
And promptly did his footfall lurch
Against the roar of massive sound
That hit him on all sides around.
In every pew were up to three
Confessions given for all to see
(And more especially, to hear,
As secrecy was no one’s fear).
The penitents jumped over pews
And stepped on one another’s shoes.
Amid the jostling and the din
A smile slowly entered in.
Things were yet worse than he had thought.
His time on earth would be a lot.



Andrew Horne
 
If you have any thoughts about this poem, Andrew Horne would be pleased to hear them