We coax it out with worship. Adulation through suffering. Temptation with blood. We lash ourselves. Fall down in the mud. We raise altars. Carve runes. We bind heretics and believers alike. All are equal in the many eyes of our god. They are sacrificed on rocks facing the sea. Their final cries echo out across the waves. The silence after lingers, leaving us with the lash of the wash and the drip of blood. Then the gurgle. The whispers. The bulge in the sea and the dark shape beneath. We avert our gazes, but oh how we long to look upon our shy god.
Paddy Dobson
9th November 2022