The Mysterious Flame Of Queen Loana   ::   Эко Умберто

When my motionless feet shall warn me that my time on this earth is nearing its end , merciful Jesus , have pity on me.

When my numb , tremulous hands shall no longer be able to grasp you , my blessed Crucifix , and against my will shall let you fall onto the bed of my suffering , merciful Jesus , have pity on me.

When my eyes , darkened and stricken with horror by death’s imminence , shall fix their enfeebled and moribund glances on You , merciful Jesus , have pity on me.

When my pale , leaden cheeks shall inspire compassion and terror in onlookers , and my hair , damp with death’s sweat , shall stand erect , announcing the nearness of my end , merciful Jesus , have pity on me.

When my imagination , agitated by terrible , fearsome specters , shall be immersed in mortal sorrows , merciful Jesus , have pity on me.

When I shall have lost the use of all my senses , and the entire world shall have vanished from me , and I shall moan in death’s final , anguished throes , merciful Jesus , have pity on me.

Singing psalms in the dark thinking about my own death. It was just what I needed, to stop me thinking about other people’s. I relive that exercise not with terror, but with a serene consciousness of the fact that all men are mortal. That lesson in Being-toward-Death prepared me for my destiny, which is everyone’s destiny. In May, Gianni told me the joke about that doctor who advises a terminally ill patient to take sand baths. "Do they help, doctor?" "Not really, but you’ll get accustomed to being underground."

I am getting accustomed.

One evening the spiritual director stood in front of the altar balustrade, illuminated-like all of us, like the entire chapel-by that single candle that haloed him in light, leaving his face in darkness. Before dismissing us, he told us a story. One night, in a convent school, a girl died, a young, pious, beautiful girl. The next morning, she was stretched out on a catafalque in the nave of the church, and the mourners were reciting their prayers for the deceased, when all of a sudden the corpse sat up, eyes wide and finger pointing at the celebrant, and said in a cavernous voice, "Father, do not pray for me! Last night I had an impure thought, a single thought-and now I am damned!"

A shudder travels through the audience and spreads to the pews and the vaults, seeming almost to make the candle flame flicker. The director exhorts us to go to bed, but no one moves.