A prophet journeys into the desert, where few resources exist outside of faith, hope, and a tentative belief in the radical acts of kindness we call love. I am searching for peace and a place to wrestle the devil and talk to God. What would it mean to leave the world behind, cast off memory, and wait for the future to begin? That is the question. I have loved sinners more than saints, and failed to save a single one. I thirst, drained dry, starving and bottomless. Somewhere behind me, my mothering years. Before me, the path of a crone. I’m lost, waiting to be found.
South Provo Prophet 