Verse 84
there was a man named Oram who repaired roofs for a living, and people said he was fortunate because nothing terrible had happened to him yet.
Liber Solis - Chapter 39
Verses
Verse 85
he had two sons, one daughter, six goats, a wife who laughed at bad jokes, and a fig tree that produced almost nothing but was somehow still his favorite.
Verse 86
one summer the rain did not come. the sky stayed blue for so long that blue itself began to feel hostile.
Verse 87
the goats died first. Oram buried them behind the house and told nobody he cried over the smallest one.
Verse 88
then a fire came over the eastern ridge. By noon the fields looked as if someone had erased them.
Verse 89
"at least the house is standing," his neighbor said. The house collapsed three days later.
Verse 90
after this people stopped saying at least.
Verse 91
his eldest son became sick during the heat and died before the physician arrived. nobody had a proverb ready for that one.
Verse 92
Oram sat outside until morning and watched the horizon brighten like nothing important had happened.
Verse 93
he said, "you could have had the decency to stay dark today."
Verse 94
three wise men came from other towns because grief apparently becomes public property when it is large enough.
Verse 95
the first told him suffering shapes the soul. Oram asked what shape his son had needed to become.
Verse 96
the second said every event has a purpose. Oram asked him to name this one. he suddenly became interested in his sandals.
Verse 97
the third said nothing for a long time, which made him the wisest of the three until he finally started talking.
Verse 98
people can endure mystery much longer than explanations.
Verse 99
Oram began sleeping beneath a torn awning because the morning light hurt his eyes and he had grown tired of things arriving from above.
Verse 100
one afternoon a stranger found him there and asked why he covered his face.
Verse 101
"because i asked to see," said Oram, "and everything got brighter but none of it got clearer."
Verse 102
the stranger sat beside him. His shadow was thin and fell in the wrong direction, but Oram was too tired to mention it.
Verse 103
"perhaps you were answered," said the stranger.
Verse 104
Oram laughed. "then whoever answered should learn to write."
Verse 105
that night he dreamed of a courtroom with no walls. A voice accused him of demanding that the universe explain itself to one man with a broken roof.
Verse 106
Oram answered, "i didnt ask the universe. i asked whoever keeps pretending to speak for it."
Verse 107
nobody in the court liked this distinction.
Verse 108
then a great brightness appeared above the judges, so fierce that Oram could see the bones inside his own hands.
Verse 109
he thought, this is it. finally something true.
Verse 110
but the brighter it became, the less he could see.
Verse 111
revelation and blindness both begin by overwhelming the eye.
Verse 112
Oram woke before dawn with his hands over his face and could not remember whether he had been shown something or prevented from seeing it.
Verse 113
his wife found him sitting in the dust. She brought water and did not explain the water.
Verse 114
he drank it and thought maybe kindness is the only answer that does not become smaller when examined.
Verse 115
months passed. grass returned badly, then better. Someone gave them two goats. The fig tree, for reasons known only to itself, produced seven figs.
Verse 116
people said his fortune was returning. Oram disliked the phrase but ate the figs anyway.
Verse 117
grief did not leave him. It merely stopped standing in every doorway.
Verse 118
years later he would still wake some mornings unsure whether the world had revealed its face to him or simply placed a finer veil over the old one.
Verse 119
when asked what he had learned, Oram usually said, "nothing that survives being said too confidently."
Verse 120
and when the light became too strong he shaded his eyes, not because he hated the day, but because a man should be allowed to choose how much heaven enters him at once.