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The Unfolding

Esther McIlveen

Dusk settles, one by one the curtains are drawn
as he makes his way up the hillside.
He knows the path, it is narrow and steep.
He has often come to this outdoor sanctuary.
Dew forms; a wedge of moon peers over the ridge.
A dark chill wind tears at his robe
as his sandalled feet pick their way tenaciously
    toward the spot.
He pauses at the top,
drops his stick,
falls to his knees,
clasps his hands and
raises his chin upwards.
Occasionally his lips move,
then he is poised for many hours.
He gets up – stretches –
offers his open palms to the skies.
He walks back and forth,
back and forth,
then drops to his knees again.
His face is silhouetted against the starlit night.
The tiny lights blink on and off,
a lonely bird calls.
Again his hands cup his face.

Down in the valley dawn begins to break.
Slowly and meticulously his lips form the names,
Peter, James, John, Andrew, Philip, Bartholomew,
Matthew, Thomas, James, Thaddeus, Simon and
Judas
and Judas.
He rises,
brushes his knees,
kicks the loose earth from his toes,
picks up his walking stick
and strides resolutely down
into
    the
        town.

Esther McIlveen lives in Richmond, B.C.

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Last modified July 19, 2002.

© 2002 Mennonite Brethren Herald.
Published by the Canadian Conference of MB Churches.
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