The space was tiny and dark. It would have been dark even in daylight, but it wasn’t daylight. It was night, with only a sliver of moonlight. But even in the darkness, it was obvious. The body simply wasn’t there.
She had loved him more than she thought she could love. And she had stayed with him until the end. She felt every blow he had received as if she was receiving them. As he cried, she cried, and even after, when he no longer could. After watching his suffering, humiliation, and, finally, his death, she had prepared his body for burial. She did it by herself. Nobody else was there. She washed the body, dressed it, cried over it, and laid it on the ground.
And then the body was gone, stolen. The door had been opened, and the body removed. It had little of value on it. She had put a ring on his finger, as a symbol of her love. But it was only pewter, hardly worth stealing. That was all she had been able to afford. Maybe in the darkness they thought it was silver.
She felt around in the darkness to see if the ring might have been left behind. It wasn’t. But she found something else. They had left his clothes, the ones she had dressed him in. She couldn’t understand that. Grave robbers were common in these parts, but she had never heard of a grave robber leaving the clothes. And they were neatly folded. What kind of a grave robber leaves neatly folded clothes?
The death of her beloved, the darkness, the tightness of the space, and now, his missing body were too much for her to take in. She began trembling and sweating. Her breathing became fast and shallow. She felt trapped.
This wasn’t the first time she had felt trapped. In fact, she had felt trapped for most of her life. She had been trapped by her addictions, the lifestyle she had been forced into to support her addictions, and most especially, those whose cruelty led her to her addictions.
People had tried to “help” her. They tried to reason with her, shame her, beat her. But she had sold her soul. There was no escape. Only darkness.
And then one day, in an instant, that darkness was gone. Just because a stranger had kissed her. He had kissed her lightly, on her forehead, and whispered in her ear, “Mary, Mary.” And with that, her addictions seemed to fly away. All she wanted then was to be in his light. A light that was beautiful, and clean. But a light that lasted for just one year, and now was gone. Having lived in the light, she didn’t know how she could survive the darkness again.
She felt herself dropping to the ground and sinking into the darkness. She might have been lost there forever, had it not been for the voice. At first, it was barely a whisper, and blended in with her nightmares. Gradually, the voice caught more of her attention, and slowly, but gently guided her back into consciousness.
The voice made no sense. The voice seemed to be repeating a single word over and over. But what that word was, she couldn’t understand.
“Mary, Mary.” That’s what the voice was saying. It was the same voice that she had first heard a year ago. It was his voice.
“Where are you,” she said. “I need you. Don’t let me fall back into the darkness.” She felt a softness on her forehead. She had felt it once before. It was his kiss.
“I am not the light,” the voice whispered. “I never was. You are the light. That’s what I came to tell you. Now, bring that light to them. They need it, now, more than ever.”
And then, she was alone again. The voice was gone. And not just the voice. Also gone was the darkness.
Spiritual questions:
- You are the light.
- When did you discover that?
- How?
- What are you called to do with it?
This is one of my Parables for the Spiritual but not Religious Series.
October 29 and November 3, 2020 - This was written with the Roundhouse Writing Group in Santa Cruz, Guatemala, remotely from Guanajuato, Mexico. This was written over two sessions. The writing prompt for the first session was: The body simply wasn't there. The writing prompt for the second session was: This wasn't the first time she had felt trapped.
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