Spiritist poetry Bordeaux, medium Mrs. E. CollignonMy will
Despite the rhyme it will not be inferior,
Let us be clear. What is superior
Is not the rhyme which is poor!
It is the spirit… doom the slang.
It is not the word that is strange.
Please understand that well: it is only the spirit that gives
Life and that is how I perceive.
I am not one of them but soon I shall be
At least I hope – this is my plea:
As a spirit I want to be not a fool
But a poor, humble and repentant soul,
Depositing all my hopes in the Lord
Expecting to share the elected ward
Much more from His goodness
Much less from my own virtues!
I explain it better for I am always wrong;
The Grace of God omnipotent and strong
Is all that I claim in this sense
Before I hear the sentence
Be it punishment or mercy
I need to rectify on my knees
Old debts that I must please.
Some of them – I whisper the confession –
Are alive in my heart. It is in my possession
The best solution to the evil deeds.
There is no difference in the creed.
First, when my spirit is separated from the body
A good prayer I shall need
For the poor dead it will lobby.
After the dust returns to Earth
It is the funeral that comes first.
I know you are not touched
By the modest burial granted.
In fact I was always shocked
To see the piled gold
On top of tombs and vaults
When the dead reach the ground
And their remains in the soil found.
Why should we worry
About such a futile glory?
So many have been lost!
Their minds in madness tossed.
Pray to God they should
Meet His mercy they would!
My belief, my hope
That is how I cope.
But why pray more for ones than others?
Will the ornaments help this brother?
Why the miserable one, like myself,
Is not granted any prayer or relief?
Why showing off expensive decoration
That only attracts envy but no liberation?
Is it to deceive people or to conquer heavens?
If it is deception, anathema is the only lesson!
If the intention is to convince the Father
Pray instead for the misfortune of your brother
Excluded from everything
That wealth is giving us.
If you suffered a lot
Be worthy of this gesture whose cost
Means nothing to you! Hear me well:
All I seek is God’s dwell
Even if my spirit when this planet left
Was considered mad. The heft
Of a real prayer – the only that the Almighty hears,
Is in the sincerity of the heart. Have no fear,
Take me so, quietly and peacefully
And instead of the usually
Sad, may your eyes radiate with joy!
Instead of crying please employ
Happy words in my farewell.
For sadness is a bad spell!
Thank God we are believers!
Do not you think, my dear, that the fever
For money made me so speak!
During my life I did not seek
Wealth so much let alone after I passed!
The arms of the scale I want leveled.
May the luxury that is used
To ornate the dust of this body
Repair my faults and wrong deeds.
I want this death covering attire
To every piece of ornament retire.
It is always the same hand
Shearing our days in this land!
It is the door to heavens
That I want open
Not the Louvre
That I ask St. Peter.
May the silent eloquence of the wooden cross
Veer off the vengeance of the offended Lord.
I want my soul rising in simplicity
And all this gold covering the nudity
Of the child, the old, my brothers
In life, perhaps more before God.
Let us all beg on our knees
To the blessed and elected ones!
Before I finish I have a sound advice
That may be useful here;
May charity illuminate you and hear
No more the opinion of fools!
Be always suspicious of rules
Enforced by proud people.
The really fortunate and happy
One is the one who does his duty.
Support the oppressed in their weakness.
Listen to the scream of sickness.
Be always prepared to relief
Your brothers from their diseases.
With the little gold that I share with you
Save the treasures for your journey
From which there is no way
Back for the virtuous spirit.
Spread benefits, ask the Lord to split
With you the clarities of Light.
Go and find the terrible plights
Of your brothers in their misery.
May God give you in his great mercy
The ability to stay on the path of charity!
