Yakabatanidzwa ruzha

He stood there for a long time. The grief was there. But it was no longer a weight that crushed him. It was a sorrow he could carry. He walked back to the cave. He had nothing to offer them. No blanket. No food. No words. He was as empty as they were. But as he sat in the darkness, the presence stirred in him again. A warmth. A quiet urging. He did not speak of God. He simply sat among them. And the presence that had rescued him from the flood radiated from him like warmth from a fire. One b