Without Reservation - Ian Lilburne

The queue stretched a block or more
From the ancient wood of the studded door
‘An hour’ the women in front of me said
Could I wait that long in this heat?
Isn’t there more to do than queue?
Shop for souvenirs?
Sit in a pew?
I went to walk then caught myself
No, this is worth it, see it through

Patiently I stood as one by one
The ones in front of me left

Peristaltically we moved
Twenty minutes
Twenty metres
I watched the kids around me
Are they drawn to classical art
Or merely to say they’ve seen it?
Note to self: watch how they behave
Especially the boy with tatt’d sleeves

We moved again
This time to a door covered in graffiti
By those who’d queued before
No doubt bored witless
Street art with a twist
Desecration
In anticipation
Of veneration

Then we were there
‘Without Reservation’ the white sign read
(‘At last’ the woman in front of me said)
The slow way in
Must remember next time
Book in advance
Avoid this line

Ten Euros and I was in
Where is he?
I don’t want to see this classical dross
Commissioned scenes of Christ on the cross
Some patron’s guilt to gild old churches
I walked through a door and there he was
Framed before me in a dome of light
A trick of marble
Vividly alive
Simply standing
Staring away
The stump of a tree holding his weight

The sheer emotion drew me in
I knew at once this was it
Worth the hour
A spiritual moment
Like watching Lenny sing Famous Blue Raincoat
Seeing Picasso’s circus figures
The Berlin Phil play Turangalila
Or climbing the Martello Tower

I walked slowly forward
Staring
Then slowly circled this Goliath of a man
Towering above me in every sense
Perfectly asymmetrical
His hands maybe too big
The toes of his left foot worn and chipped
But the veins
And muscles
And ripples of flesh
Perfect
Vividly alive
The stone exactly the colour of unsunned skin
So that you could almost see the hairs bristling

Slowly in wonder I drank it in
A spiritual moment
Without reservation
A trick of the chisel
Alive
Vivid
Worth the wait
Michelangelo’s David