Unclean

A small, iron bell was ringing and the market square emptied rapidly, as a band of men shuffled dejectedly through the town. They moved like convicts, even though they wore the free man's garb. Every time I see them, I am disgusted, every time I see myself, I simply cannot believe it. "Unclean! Unclean! Do not touch, do not walk on tainted ground before the priest comes! Unclean! Unclean!" Called the town crier, and the folk were not slow to obey his directions. The pack of the unclean ambled through the town, and I with them.



"Don't be such a bitter herb!" My brother's voice came calling me to a memory. Years ago, before winter fell onto my skin forever, I had happiness of a sort. My brother and I would wander the countryside in search of game or fun. We would... talk for days at a time, or so it seemed. Golden days, languid days, far gone days. A shriek of terror brought me back to the present, only to see the face of a cowering woman rejecting my presence with her fear.



Why, why did we have to go to town? Why must we be revealed for all to see, for all our memories of goodness and life to be squashed and tainted in the greedy flames of hatred. I could smell their fear, and I could see the question in their eyes as well, why, why must we bear the presence of the unclean? Better to die than to be infected with the winter skin, with the ice burning away all feeling and mobility.



True, all true. Many times I had contemplated the knife, or simply wandering into the wilderness where the bear lived, and wolves prowled. Yet still, somehow, I held on. Not to hope, but to the slim chance of some cure or a reverse of my malady. It was known to happen rare, as it was, but I never dwelt on these thoughts of escape or rescue. For as soon as I looked upon the scales on my skin I knew, all the way down to my bones, I knew I was stuck. Stuck to live the thrice cursed life, with no feeling in my body, no feeling in my heart, and no feeling in my soul. I was numb, frozen to the core.



Every friend I had in life, for I had died even though I live, was now a sworn enemy, every cherished memory or treasured gift was turned into ashes in my mouth. I was useless, and worse, my only use was to be reviled and rejected. While the group of lepers were lingering in the town a stranger approached the place where we were gathered. He wore tattered clothes and walked with a sure stride. It seemed to me he looked only at me, even as he scrutinized someone else.

My eyes betrayed me and followed his every movement. I heard someone whisper a name, Jeshua, and then my own legs had no more strength in them. I wept, I had not the slightest strength in me except for sadness. I knew I had no right to even look at him, to even think or hope he would heal me. What was I but an abomination of hate? What was I but someone degrading into a living corpse? I had no right to ask... but I could mention. "Lord, if you will you can make me clean." I said, sounding dejected and forlorn.

"I will, be clean."

Dt