Old scene (wrote it in highschool)

I wrote this in highschool. Something about it strikes me as very medieval now, very typological, related imagery over rational processes or thought. Hmm, I guess I was fated to be a medievalist.

She looked down at the mud-earth by her feet. She bent down and touched the earth, holding it between her fingers… formed man from the dust of the earth and made it holy

blood and earth—your brother’s blood cries out from the earth—pouring out, throbbing head looking down at earth receiving dark blood spilling out from stilled body—you shall be a wanderer—accursed—cursed…

spit and earth—go wash in the waters of Siloam, receive back your sight—to see, to see!—we ache and cry out, blind, dry dust, cry out to see!

cursed shall be the ground and from the sweat of your brow—plowing the dry earth, the shoots wither and the baby’s crying weakens, sweat and dry broken sod, looking up, head throbbing, heat cracked opened lips panting on broken sod waiting, waiting for the rain…

blood poured out—rain—wetting the dry earth, the dried blood, the broken sod, the dust—wet, pouring down the blood—wet earth, wet with blood…made holy.

To dust you shall return. Made holy.
Wait. I am dust. Dust! Rain, come…Blood, mercy.
I am unholy. Cry out, cry out for the first dust, the hand of God touched…

There is the promise: To dust you shall return. The hands of
God bled on. The rain poured out.

I know I am dust. Wait. I will. Calling out into the wind—yes! It blows past. Stillness. I will wait. A glimmer of the great Dawn through a chink, and then it was gone. An instant of a touch of a hand on the shoulder, then it faded into the cold stillness. I will wait.

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