Asked whether since last Friday she had heard voices she said yes a myriad. Asked whether when she heard said voices she was able to converse with them she replied yes always. Asked if the voices had faces she answered yes sometimes. Asked if said faces had forms discernible to her bodily eyes she replied yes sometimes. Asked what appearance they had she said words failed her or she failed them. Asked if she’d care to elaborate she said no not really. Asked if she knew what day it was she replied Wednesday. Asked whether she believed she suffered from a mental disorder she replied no she quite enjoyed it. Asked if she thought such levity appropriate in a matter so grave she declined to answer and merely smiled in a manner best described as ‘enigmatic’. Asked if she always did as her voices commanded she said her voices did not command. Asked whether when they spoke to her she grew frightened she said no never. Asked whether she understood the reason for her being here she again declined to answer but this time did not smile neither enigmatically nor in any way discernible to bodily eyes.
(Based on transcripts detailing the trial of Joan of Arc in 1431 – as translated by W.S. Scott & published by the Folio Society, London, 1956. “Jane Day” was said to be a phonetic transcription of Montaigne’s pronunciation of Jeanne d’Arc.)
(Image by CJA)
Saragun Springs 
Intriguing and leaves the reader wanting so much more. dd
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Actually the piece is a condensed version of a much longer, far windier piece! But thanks, Diane.
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Geraint
I do love her replies–especially knowing how it all worked out. Similar to whatever “discussion” Pilot (sp) had with J.C
These mini’s can say much when writ by the correct hand!
Leila
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Thanks Leila, your feedback always does just that – feeds.
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Geraint
A fascination with the figure of the mystic combined with a skepticism about the sources of the mystic’s vision is a brilliant jumping off place for a prose poem. Much has been written about Joan, but not enough has been written about her, since she is one of those figures, like Napolean or Alexander the Great, who every age needs to wrestle with, and reckon with, anew. This piece accomplishes its mission: defamiliarizing, or making fresh again, a well-known character from history is probably one of the most important things writing can do today. (There are a million reasons for this, which is the subject for another day.)
The art of what’s left out could be the most important art of all in modern writing, since so much has already been said, and since so much, paradoxically, still remains to be said, as the world turns (or hurls forward). Every single word in this piece, from the title to the big bang about Montaigne at the end, contributes to its mission, while also creating a wonderful sense of FLOW. The use of rhythms and repetitions in the piece make it an example of sublime prose, not just prose, and not even “just poetry.”
Your writing is also, without doubt, Shakespearean in the way in which the author “disappears” into the text and overt personal opinions are hidden, exiled, or banished. The sense of nuance, fluidity, and subtlety are all there in the voice/s. And one needs to emphasize the plural voiceS, because this piece has more than one voice.
The phrase “bodily eyes” is itself alone worth the price of admission!
Looking forward to more of your brilliance appearing here soon…
Dale
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And needless to say i.e. well worth repeating – your feedback too a thing of nourishment. Thanks Dale.
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Took me completely by surprise. Excellent!
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Thank you David.
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Brilliant. And very thought provoking. thank you, mick
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Your comment appreciated Mick.
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I can’t remember the name of the comedian / actor who use the doesn’t suffer from madness, he enjoys it. I never knew he stole it from (very bad French) Jean D’arc.
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