Thank you, purifier. As I told the person to whom I originally wrote the open letter, last night a very creepy poem popped into my head. It's by Shel Silverstein, and it's haunted me for YEARS--even before I started doubting and questioning my faith for the first time. I find it fitting now:
THE ONE WHO STAYED
by Shel Silverstein, on his album "Where the Sidewalk Ends"
You should have heard the old men cry.
You should have heard the biddies,
When that sad stranger raised his flute and piped away the kiddies.
Katie, Tommy, Meg and Bob
Followed, skipping gaily, red-haired Ruth and my brother Rob,
Little crippled Bailey,
John and Nils and Cousin Claire,
Dancing, spinning, turning, across the hills to God knows where--
They never came returning.
Across the hills to God knows where,
The Piper pranced, a-leading
Each child in Hamelin town--but me.
And I stayed home, unheeding.
My papa says that I was blessed,
For if that music found me, I'd be witch-cast
Like all the rest.
This town grows old around me.
I cannot say I did not hear that sound,
So haunting and hollow...
I heard. I heard.
I heard it clear...
But I was AFRAID to follow...