I squint my eyes. The boat’s so far away it’s hard to make it out. Beneath my feet the gravel crunches as I turn my back on my deliverer and walk alone to meet the anger of the pig farmers, the wide- eyed wonder of the crowds, the children’s stares, the whispers, “He was mad once, don’t you know?”, the easing back to everyday affairs. He broke my curse, brought me into the light and now he leaves me in this hostile land a solitary witness. How I wish he’d given me an easier command. (To love can mean to leave, I was to find; to follow can mean to be left behind.)
[Lines found somewhere in the Decapolis]
“We are not tools we are children”❤️❤️❤️
So so good. I’m not sure I’ve ever read this one before? One of my favorites.