Sent

I’m caught. I have a panic inside me and I know I won’t see mother again. If I could turn into a falcon and fly high, or a rabbit and use my quickness to run, or even a member of the dead, I would remain free. I am not any of those and, so I follow my captors. The sea is rough, and the boat is crowded. Other slaves are tied like me. We wear the look of confinement, too frightened to speak, too weak with hunger to move. The waters are brooding, a witching hour.  If I cast myself into the sea would it be preferable to the life of a slave? But I hear a small voice inside my head, trust in me, Patrick.
***
If I were a slave to the Trinity, and not to the pagans I would accept all means of suffering, even to the desire to be nailed to a cross. Yet, the gods they serve are now my gods and I cannot escape full knowledge of their beliefs. But, no doubt is in me as the beating of my heart and the sweating of my skin testify that flesh is no place for spiritual things to dwell. And yet you dwell within me in the hours of darkness with stars as the only testament to the power of the true God far removed from the land I now call home. You are still here on this mountain waiting to hear my cries. The island has been my home for five years now and yet I awake from a dream in which I heard the voice of God describe a boat that will take me back to my mother and father. Do I trust the voice? If I am caught I certainly will be beaten. Still, if today God speaks to me, how will I answer him when my life is poured out into its final hours? Would I trust and be a fool or deny and be unfaithful? Better a fool and I throw off my blanket.
***
A fire burns the interior of my heart, the fire of spirit-driven truth. I go again to the land that took my freedom in youth, but in my advancing years I go freely to convert the peoples I heard cry out to me in a dream. I am free to sacrifice myself; to follow in the cross of Christ.
Still, the will of the Lord is hazy, and I’m void of unwavering confidence. Yes, only a fool would have no fear. Yet, the fire in me speaks not of its own accord, but is driven to say words that are His.
I am a slave in the happiest sense, for I am free to serve or not. I give myself to God in hopes of gaining the freedom of heaven as I draw my last sigh. To the ends of the earth he sends his followers who trust not in themselves, but in the one who sends them.