The Starving Saints

by Caitlin Starling

Death does not come all at once; it leaves many of us in the sunlight behind, to grapple with a loss that comes seemingly out of order. Our own rhythms distract us from the procession.”

Maybe faith, when brought to life, is too much when you are drowned in it your whole life. The sustaining liquor of it suddenly made solid.

Simplicity is a lie. Service is never easy, not when done right.

“She died very prettily,” he continues. “Her lips were kiss-swollen. Was it from you? Did she know that you were there, or did she think the sun was merely shining upon her face?”

“Promise me something, my madwoman,” Leodegardis says after a moment’s quivering. “Name it.” “Do not forget my kindness. Do not let this have been in vain.”