Epilogue

I wrote the following as an entry in the Plymouth Public Library’s contest for a new ending to “Romeo and Juliet” and was gratified to see it performed on the library lawn this afternoon. 

AFTERWARD

Enter Nurse and Friar Lawrence

Nurse:

A pretty peace we have, good friar, a pretty peace,

I know the Capulets and Montagues.

They did not give up wine, nor break their swords.

The streets are narrow; someone must give way.

This is the world no matter what we say.

A generation’s tears would sink a mighty fleet.

I tell thee Juliet was loved of old.

With these two breasts I suckled her

When mine own babe had died.

I heard her first sweet tinkling laugh.

I heard her babble turn to words.

And to these arms her first three steps did run.

Now tell me friar, although I know that thou canst not,

How did the prophets know if God were speaking in a dream,

Or if they dreamt He spoke?

If I were Abraham of ancient times, I’d fear the booming voice

Were but a terror of an addled brain.

No matter. Last night I pressed these bony knees to stone

And prayed to know the justice of it all.

And when I slept I saw the pair with children all around.

I saw them agèd in a bed,

Each snoring his or her own kind of snore.

I asked of God why this could not have been.

And then I heard a voice much like a choir

That said the couple had more joy

In one enchanted night than many married folk

In two long lifetimes feel.

“Where are they now?” I cried,

“Woke they in heaven to the rising sun

Without the danger or the fear?”

But God is God e’en in a woman’s dreams.

’Twas I who woke to silence in the heavy dark.

Friar Lawrence:

At least thou rose to pondering and doubt.

I would that Romeo had pondered long.

He saw as death what was a peaceful sleep,

And rashly fled a phantom soon to fade.

And Juliet so late from childhood come

Saw ne’er a hope in all her life ahead

And in stark certainty embraced the blade.

We two are given greater age

We’ve seen a thousand certainties

Into confusion fall.

Thou sayest God is silent,

Yet we’re blest by His commands.

Heed them as in thy grief thou plod along.

Plod on and ponder, doubter, plod and pray.

Beyond the darkling night there dawns the day.