Night and day among the tombs and in the hills he would cry out and cut himself with stones. - Mark 5:5
I thought Christ was the spoon that hollows the gourd, the fist pulling out that stringy seed, but he only made an opening; I had to see myself through it. You don’t have to tell me how you went back and buried all the drowned swine—I know. I’m like you: a lover of graves and the dirt it takes to fill them. Don’t be ashamed: if you come here, we won’t talk about that other life. I will prepare a meal; you will tell me your new name.