Imaginary

My name is Hannah, and the boy that lays beside me is a Lent unto the Lord. He lies quietly, and speaks softly. That boy will be a man. That boy will learn to lift heavy objects, sand wood, and sing praises to the most High. He will learn what it means to worship God in the morning, and to whisper a melody with the birds. He will memorize the lyrics to French hymns, and adhere the tongue of the learned wise child. He will grow in wisdom and stature, then he will dwell in the

I wade in the dirt of my own folly, hoping the eyes of one would peak through the dune, yet not sink. I feel as miry clay and a stone, but I know I am a ruby (and he a sapphire). This vessel is poor, as I cannot mingle with the kings and princes of this world. There is weakness in my bones, for I am buried treasure, and no one seems to dig. I cannot swim, and the mucky waters make a tumult. I’d prove my worth if it were possible, but the eyes and ears of those who’ve passed b