no shambles, no suet,
no Temple or offering;
no wheels, no immersion,
no flesh for transgression...
- Shelomo ibn Gabirol, 'And So It Came To Nothing'
Hold Me Brother In This Storm
Knowing now that He listens, is blind to nothing, cares for nothing, nothing lost and never to be restored to His love, you have forsaken the will to speak; to pray.
Beyond judgement, beyond any threat backed by fear of expulsion, may your thoughts at least be your own, if not this mouth, this heart, this hand - the hand that once tried to do His bidding - this living flesh that is your prison and refuge both, let it be your only home, this bastard dissolvence of Host into man, and let it now be free to curse Him. Praises and curses being equal in His eyes, each as much unheeded, and held in like indifference, yet the latter might help you not to feel so helpless and afraid...
And so very wrong, to have misplaced your faith. Such was the depth of it that you had further to fall. The blame for that, you cannot with all honesty place upon Him.
The cell phone in your pocket is ringing for the fifth time, kept, for the most part, out of the rain. This time, you answer it.
THE END
3 April 2010