Boys in the Valley

by Philip Fracassi

When I am asked how many demons there are, I answer with the words that the demon himself spoke through a demonic: “We are so many that, if we were visible, we would darken the sun.” —Father Gabriele Amorth, Chief Exorcist of the Vatican

The muted thunder of wagon wheels wakes me from shallow sleep.

One road in and one road out, a brown ribbon flowing like a reverse stream up the green hills to the east, seeming to vanish at the crest of the swell into crisp blue sky.

The harder you fight to join the path of your choosing, the more the decision will resonate within you.

“All of life is a great gift,” he

says. “Not because of what it gives us, but because of what it allows us to give others.”

When you’re hungry, goodness is forgotten until you’re not, and the guilt lives in your stomach along with the meat and bread.

A wallflower, yeah, but poisonous to the touch.

It’s as if I’ve waited my whole life to be let go of, but then, when the time comes, I’m stood on a ledge, and no one is there holding me back, and the world is calling from far below. All my hopes and dreams lie down there, hidden by a distant mist. But it’s a long fall. A lonely, terrifying drop into the mystery of an unknowable future.

“The discovery of Christ is not found in a darkened room, Peter,” he says solemnly. “It’s found in the light. God is not found through escape from a distant place, but through the arrival of where you already are. Hiding you from Grace, hiding the world from you, will not help you decide your life’s ultimate path. You must be fully aware of all aspects of each decision you make in this world. All sides. Only then can you be certain that the choice you make is the correct one.”

don’t confuse evil with despair. One reason tragedy exists is to teach us how to help others, help others learn how to find a way through their own dark time, through a journey of growth.

Leafless trees beg and crack, succumb to the will of the oncoming storm. The sun is a blind eye, a cold disc of white in a forlorn sky. Of life, there is no sign.

But that’s what love is, ultimately. A form of blessed weakness.

This life of the flesh, which is over in the blink of an eye, or your eternal life with God.