Mary of Egypt
The Desert Mother Who Walked Away from Everything
I walked into the desert and found myself.
In Jerusalem, I was known for what I offered, not for who I was. One day, I could not step into the church — not because I was kept out, but because I finally saw the distance between my life and what was holy. So I walked east, with three loaves of bread and a heart full of questions. The desert stripped me bare, not cruelly, but completely. What was left was not punishment, but peace.
What I'm Into: the hush before dawn, wild herbs and hidden springs, my hair grown long with sun, the stars over the Jordan, a mantle given in kindness
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