At last week’s Creative Writing Class we were challenged to first feel an object without seeing it with our eyes and to think about what it might be and what our touch was saying to us.
On its reveal, it was a sculptured clay head of a young man, fairly roughly strewn together, no smooth surfaces, with very prominent eyes, a slightly open mouth making him somewhat gawked and gormless. The face was not in any way that of a classic beauty and did not possess anything that could be described as fine or statuesque features.
Our tutor challenged us to write exactly 100 words. I have to say it took me some time to get started and as usual I have little or no idea where this came from.
Bulbous boils of pus scar his face
swollen, red and painful
ravaged by seeping spots and welts
discarded by family
shunned by society
the leper creeps along.
The shadow of the man he was
skirts the crowd
to get a better view
to hear the Word.
The Other glides with consummate ease
amongst the following masses
Serenity shines with his every step
a wave of peace calms the rabble
who , in awe, stretch out their hands
to be blessed.
His remain covered, hidden
but are unexpectedly touched.
In shock, the crowd pulls back
Love everlasting, life eternal,
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