I follow her story only in part,
like a man looking from a lit room at dark
hills, silhouetted against navy skies—
his own staring face superimposed by
a ghostly glare from the light of the room.
At her story’s crux, Timkat lays down her broom
and in an overflow of English says:
You father, doctor, dead. You brother, dead.
You mother, konjo, konjo—beautiful—dead.
You, Why? Why? Why? She turns and drops her head.
I want to say the dead are not fated
to lasting death. Since in death we’re translated
into glory, life that seems uncanny.
It’s there in her name, Timkat—Epiphany.
Instead, I say, I’m sorry—Aznalo.
She stoops to grab her broom. I rise to go.
And though I barely see her story’s trace,
like the hills, she seems to wear my face.
We launched the First Things 2023 Year-End Campaign to keep articles like the one you just read free of charge to everyone.
Measured in dollars and cents, this doesn't make sense. But consider who is able to read First Things: pastors and priests, college students and professors, young professionals and families. Last year, we had more than three million unique readers on firstthings.com.
Informing and inspiring these people is why First Things doesn't only think in terms of dollars and cents. And it's why we urgently need your year-end support.
Will you give today?
