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Show 5?i family- nor to my b r o t h e r s , nor to the Church, nor could I entrust my soul to Brian. Love seemed to bleed into nothing. I put my face in my hands. My head throbbed with fatigue, but I knew I could not sleep. I fell irua stupor, half-conscious, a zombie. I had an image of people milling about on a desert. They wore the scarves and headdresses of nomadic tribesmen. A group was clustered together and I had a t e r r i f y i n g sensation as the vision approached. Four men held a woman in the a i r, her legs spread. Another man, t a l l and dark, held a knife. I had seen his face before - I couldn't remember where. I thought of Mexico; I thought of the deserts of Palestine, pre-Mosaic law. The man held the knife to the sky and called on God. Then he plunged the knife deep, deep into the woman. Her scream s t a r t l e d me awake and I stared at the kitchen light, a blot of red before my eyes, as of blood staining sand. I went to the bookcase, my hands shaking and my knees weak. I hunkered before i t , leafing through my favorite novels for words that would comfort me, but found none. I searched through Brian's philosophy books. The ideas seemed tinny and self-conscious and vain. Then, at dawn, when the brackish chatter of s t a r l i n g s seemed to peck at my heart, my eyes rested on words in the old white Bible that my grandmother had given me, and I f e l t that the burning was bathed from them: 'Grace be to you, and peace from God our Father and from the L°rd Jesus Christ. ' |
