ancient rituals
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I remember the quiet before they named me. Not silence, exactly.More like listening earth.Like the world holding its breath before the light turns. My mother understood this before I did.She did not teach me words.She taught me seasons. She taught me how to feel the moment when darkness reaches its limit.How to recognize the pause…
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He wasn’t asleep when the knowing came. It arrived in the thin space before morning, when the world is quiet enough to tell the truth. One moment he stood in Magdalene’s garden, the earth cool beneath his feet, the olive trees holding their breath — and the next he was inside a life already unfolding.…
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He woke before the light touched the stone. Not from sleep, but from forgetting. Something inside him had shifted in the night, like a door opening where there had never been a wall. His breath felt wider than his body. The air listened when he inhaled. The ground beneath him answered when he stood. This…
