The Ragged Edge of Night

by Olivia Hawker

“It seems there is no greater power. I’ve almost come to believe that.” The tears are falling freely now, but he is not ashamed. The Spirit doesn’t allow for shame, in His healing and holy presence. “You have almost come to believe, but not entirely.” Anton shakes his head, slowly. For the moment, he is bereft of words, hollowed by awe and relief. “There is a greater force, Anton—I promise you. There is a power in this world that no evil can overcome.” Day after day, it rises. Like a tide, it swells. Every outrage, every death, each new act of inhumanity wrings from us another drop of resolve, even when we think our spirits dust dry and deadened. We flow together; we merge; the burning-salt wash of our tears and the breath of our sobbing voices, the tension of our tightened jaws, our current of despair. We are a river eroding its banks. We will no longer be contained. There is a greater force. Its name is Widerstand, resist. We call it White Rose, and Grauer Orden; we call it Non-Compliance. In the streets of Munich and Berlin, the boys, unbroken, take fists to the faces of the Hitler Youth, and we call them Edelweiss Pirates. We call the force Unbowed, Unbent, and Father Emil, and Anton. “Will you do it? Will you carry my words? The pay is very good, I can tell you.” He nods. What else can he do but accept? “I won’t do it for the pay, though—not only for that.” Again, Emil smiles. “No, of course you won’t. You of all people—you listen to the voice of the Lord.” Truly we a...