Those must have been the sweetest nights, to meet your sons around the fire and tell firsthand the greatest bedtime stories in the land. When serpents walked (before they lost their feet) and how you named each bird and beast. And when you fell asleep alone but woke up wed, with one less rib and man’s first wound. Your bed, now far too small, you quickly built again. How neighbors talked: “That man’s the one...
The boy knew about blood. A sign of sacrifice, it flowed through every festival and feast. His people saw the power and the promise in those streams, the blood of beasts. But when, amid the yearly plans, the old recurring rites, did he learn he was the Lamb? Maybe when his mother told him tales of men who sprinkled drops across the veil. Or when he saw the stains beneath the fingernails...
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