According to Thomas
William Coleman
July 1, 1999
Doubtless a trick, of course. I see that now. That day on the hill—light failing—I half-believed he would break free, the iron and wood dissolving like showmen's props. He clearly knew such a marvel would be too much, and we would have died in his place. Instead, he let the curtain fall completely. Then, he slipped from view. Still, when he reemerged, a man who'd met and shackled death, I turned away. I feared his love that much. What is more? He held my hand to the hollow places, where we could meet. I felt his pulse and pull, and turned again to face him in the flesh. And the trick? He must have known I'd never accept such a return, so he let me go, turn my back. When I found him again, it was I who had been dead, remembered, only now redeemed.
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