THE SONG OF St. IVAN INCLINE

Often times did Ivan wonder, why he could not stand alone
He was vital, robust, active. He was solid, hard as nails
But he could not stand for minutes, could not keep his body straight
He would totter, he would wobble, he would shake and have to sit
So he took to leaning, drooping, took to leaning against walls
took to leaning to support him, looking for support to hold.
As he found it made no difference of what substance it was made
Be it timber, be it plaster, brick or tile it was the same
He would lean there sloping gently, gently sloping but not falling
There he leant until he moved off, moved off smoothly like a cat
All his movements smooth and silky, all his joints like oil, like water
running, running like the river. It was good until he stopped
Good until he came to rest, lingered, lingered for a moment’s respite,
Leaning, leaning on whatever.

Skepwatha. Book ix p.24