Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Urim and Thummim

At the monastery my love for the written word flourished. I was 8 when I entered the order. Half starved and abandon there by my siblings, I hold no grudges you see. Our family fleeing wild men of the sea, had no time for my infirmities. Strangely I don't recall my first taste of bread, remember the first drink of wine, not even my first wrap of clothing. All orderly ritual and regiment has diminished those meager gifts in my minds eye. I remained silent for months, I did not speak. Not out of vowel or edict but simply awe of the unearthly realm I had entered. . 

when I was ten a hospitalar requested shelter in route to the Romano Basilica, obliged to the grace of our order he set my leg strait by God's grace and bound it to brace for 4 seasons. 
It was the first time I cried out in two years. 
"Brother Equines!" the healer exclaimed, "he has a voice! By the majesty of our holy father, he who is lame may now stand and he who is mute may now testify." 
With a chuckle Brother Equines whispered to me, " be glad you spoke, his methods to make people speak are no joy to witness." 
The clergy never acknowledged the first words I pierced the still chamber with, the language now lost to me like the faded first taste of bread. The dialect disturbed them deeply and it was never spoke of again. 
Please forgive my boldness, I do not boast out pride, if taken so, I confess it is not the deadliest of the sins. Language to me is a divine gift, my ears a tune so young to the voice of my brothers from lands beyond my reckoning. When I took to the quill and parchment, days past like grains in an hour glass. My eyes devoured the scriptures, parchment, the Gospels. I read of places, men, and ideas long past and nearly forgotten.
When I was christen with the name Samuel, I spent countless hours in the oldest manuscripts. In reverence to Paul once Saul of Tarsus, I desired to understand our spiritual transformation. But with no blood clan to define my sires I felt as if I the soul was given to the name and not the other. 
This name, judgement, Seer, and Kingmaker would haunt my reading. 
This burden was a calling I felt I could not carry.
When I close my eyes I see the stones.
God's Judgement I know.      
Guilt and Innocence 

Brother Samuel