Damascus 2: Pentecost

I missed the flames that day, was at my books, learning the whys and wherefores of Law, determined that every subscript iota would not be neglected when I stood before God. The Spirit blows wherever it wills. Mine was the letter, not the wind. When, years later, I clutched letters in hand, I held everyContinue reading “Damascus 2: Pentecost”

Damascus 1

Something ends here: paused mid-threat, flung groundward, the man called Saul can breathe no more murder while the horse kicks up its hooves and he points his arms half-desperate at heaven. Something begins here yet it looks altogether like dying: the fall, the pervasive dark, the eyes failing to see, and yet the spirit cognisantContinue reading “Damascus 1”