Fiction

The Great Weeping Saint

This is a testament of my Spiritual Inspiration Dakaar.

He dislikes the title of “Master” or “Leader,” thus his disciples have taken to call him “an inspiration” or “a means of spiritual motivation.” He does not claim to be enlightened or holy. He does not write down his teaches or lectures to masses. He does not seek but offers. He wishes to give compassion and accept the suffering of others. He is known to weep greatly for his fellow man, as he has a great sadness for all the suffering in the world.

Dakaar was born 165 years ago. Stories of his miracles began late in his youth, after an encounter with a great, unearthly force. He says he lived humbly before this great encounter, he had clothes to keep warm and food to survive. He had a modest dwelling to rest in and work to support himself. Dakaar does not speak of his family, if he had one.

Dakaar speaks of his great encounter as such. Late in his youth, he was in a grassy field crying and praying to holy beings.

‘Please’ he said through tears, ‘how can I save more people? How can I do more for my fellow man?’ Dakaar, even in his youth, had a great sadness for those who suffered. He wanted peace for the world and give compassion, but he knew he was but one man.

What followed, after Dakaar says is many hours of praying, was not a vision but an encounter. He says it was not a vision for a vision means he saw something. In this encounter, he did not see something but felt something. Dakaar calls it a great unearthly force.

This great unearthly force formed behind him and placed a great pressure on his body. He says he was paralysed both by fear and by hope. He heard the force speak but not through his ears but his mind. He says the force spoke in a foreign language unlike any he knew, but he says he understood the force.

‘Go forth’ the great, unearthly force commanded, ‘Do as you have done. Act as you have acted. You will suffer while others will not.’

Dakaar says the force disappeared and his body felt no different from before. He was, however, reassured his mission was a blessed mission. He would heed the words of the great, unearthly force and do as he had done throughout his youth.

Dakaar continued his work. He gave food to the hungry and clothes to the poor. He tended to the sick and comforted the dying. He cried and he wept and he continued forward.

He says he did not realize in those times of his youth that his body had changed. He ate less and slept little. He tended to the sick but did not contract their illnesses. The actions of the great, unearthly force would not occur to Dakaar until the famous first account of his miracles “The Desperate Beggar.”

“The Desperate Beggar” is told to have occurred on a moonless night. Dakaar roamed city streets seeking those he may help. It is said that he carried with him a sack of meager food and shared it amongst the poor. It is said that this is what spurred the Desperate Beggar.

The Beggar approached Dakaar and brandished a knife. He demanded the food and all valuables Dakaar had.

As he began to cry Dakaar asked, ‘Why must you do this? I will give you food without prejudice, I will cloth you without hesitation. Why must you use such violence? I weep at the sadness you must have suffered to resort to such desperate means.’

The Beggar, too prideful to accept Dakaar’s compassion, lunged at Dakaar. Scared by the consequences, the Beggar ran away emptyhanded.

Dakaar was left with a knife deeply embedded in his side. He was in great pain, but he wept for the Beggar and the further sadness in his heart.

Wounded, unable to move, Dakaar collapsed onto the ground. He pulled out the knife and cradled his body. He prayed, mournful he would leave the world with so much work left to do.

And yet, it was a miracle! For, despite his terrible wounds, Dakaar lived. His body healed at a wondrous speed and he stood once more. To this day, Dakaar bears the scar of that night. As does he ever scar from every wound he has recovered from.

This was the grace of the great, unearthly force. It had blessed Dakaar with a holy body, able to withstand pain and death. He would bleed but he would not die. He would suffer for others and bring about hope and peace to the world.

The great, spiritual inspiration Dakaar continues to live to this day. Many have their doubts of his age. I too find it difficult to believe he lived for over 150 years. I have found the documents that speak of his miracles and I know they refer to him by name, but I also know that a man’s life is limited. I know, however, that Dakaar is true to his mission. And I know that his holy body is no lie. I have seen him wounded and I have seen him recover. I believe in Dakaar and the words of Dakaar and the great, unearthly force that granted him this blessing.

He has allowed myself and others to join him in his pilgrimage to spread compassion and accept the suffering of others.

I am the most recent of Dakaar’s disciples. When I asked to follow him he wept. I asked him why he cried and he said ‘For you to join me, I fear you live a sad, unhappy life where nomadism is your only salvation.’ I told him no, that I was inspired by him and wished to help others as he did. Still, he wept ‘For you to say that, I fear you will be sacrificing a good and humble life for this life of suffering.’ I told him I would be sacrificing nothing, I told him my life meant little if it could bring hope and compassion to the world. He cried, but I knew he was no longer sad, he said ‘Should we travel together, you will not follow me but join me. I am humbled to have such a person share my mission.’

For many months we have traveled in a great pilgrimage. We, Dakaar and his disciples, do all we can to feed the hungry, cloth the poor, tend to the sick. Dakaar is a humble focal. He dislikes being called a leader and so many of his disciples make independent choices that they believe benefit the mission. Dakaar is a humble man and will have trouble expression his bias thoughts. He will cry at the extremist suggestions of his disciples ‘I’m sorry I have lead you to such thinking, I’ve been a poor teacher if this is your interpretation, and yet I weep for I see your passion and your ideals are pure.’

Many disciples had broken from the pilgrimage group to form permanent shelters. They have gone with Dakaar’s blessings, but he asks they not credit him. ‘What I do is not noble but natural. These are the actions of every human. Do as you have done, act as you have acted, for it is good and compassionate.’

This is a testament of my spiritual inspiration Dakaar, for a great miracle has occurred in his wake.

During out pilgrimage, a war was brewing in two nearby nations, Harbara and Osayent. For many generations, the rulers of these nations held terrible spite for the other. The son of the old Harbara ruler succeeded his father and his pride and ignorance would surely begat battle.

Many people approached our group and prayed at Dakaar’s feet. ‘Great Weeping Saint,’ they said, ‘if you are as compassionate as they say, if you are as old and as wise as they say, if you have seen the history of these past 100 years, please Great Weeping Saint, save our county! Stop this terrible man!’

Dakaar cried at their struggle. He held them and consoled them. He housed them after their long, tiring journey and fed them. And yet he wept, for he was deeply troubled by their prayers.

Dakaar is a humble man. He knew he was not meant to trifle in the politics of the world. He knew he had no means to sway the great leaders of the world. And yet, many people thought that he could. In his prayers to the heavens he would weep and confess. ‘I am not as important as they think! I wish to do as they ask, but I have no such power! I am but a humble man who suffers for others. But can I endure the hardships of a warring people?’

I do not know if he met with the great, unearthly force once more, but Dakaar quickly came to a conclusion. He agreed to help the people of the warring nations. He told his disciples he would travel to see the waring ruler of Harbara and plead for peace. He said he would do all he could with his humble power.

It was perhaps the first any of us had seen such motivation in the eyes of Dakaar. It was perhaps the first he had said such powerful words without crying, yet we saw the tears welling in his eyes. We knew Dakaar was being strong for the pleading people. We knew he was declaring such grand promises because he hoped he could fulfill them. Dakaar wanted to save these people.

He asked his disciples to remain on the pilgrimage. He said he would travel alone, but I asked to join him. I told him a great miracle will surely happen and I would be a witness to it. I believe he saw the determination in my eyes. He agreed, and so we traveled to the capital of Harbara.

Dakaar, with his miraculous body, did not need sleep, so we traveled through the night. When I needed rest he would carry me, when I was cold he gave me his clothes. We traveled as quickly as our feet would take us, but we were not quick enough. The war broke out as we traveled and Dakaar cried at the people he failed to help.

We traveled for a week through both Osayent and Harbara. Dakaar wept greatly for those we passed, for it was clear the people of both nations were suffering long before the war. We had a meager sum of food and he gave away what he could while still considering our portions. I apologized for being a burden and he told me to stop such thinking. He simply asked I remember these towns so our pilgrimage may aid them in the future.

In the capital, we arrived dirty and bruised. Dakaar was unsure of how to proceed and I too was ignorant of Harbara’s practices. He approached the gates of the great ruler’s palace, knelt on the ground and bowed, his forward touching the dirt. He asked the guards ‘Please allow me to see your ruler, the people who suffer from this war have asked me to ask him for peace.’

The guards found this amusing and laughed. They kicked him, ridiculed him for his appearance, and told him to leave their presence. He did not. He was determined. Dakaar remained on the ground, bowing incredibly humbly to appease his hosts. They became angry and they spit on him and beat him. He remained, his determination steadfast.

The guards must have grown tired, for they started to ignore him. Still Dakaar remained on the ground in front of the palace gates. A new shift of guards came and they too ridiculed and beat Dakaar, and they too grew tired of it. Still Dakaar remained on the ground, his forehead to the dirt. Soldiers and noblemen came in and out of the gate, hitting and stepping on Dakaar as they went, kicking him to the side of their path. Still Dakaar remained.

For three days and three nights Dakaar was steadfast. I prayed for him and offered food, but he turned me away. He discouraged me from doing as he did, for he did not want me to be beaten or hurt because of his foolishness.

On the fourth day a man in approached Dakaar. He had many guards with him and I worried we would soon be turned away.

‘What do you seek?’ the man asked Dakaar. Dakaar did not look at the man, keeping his head to the ground in respect. He repeated his mission to ask for peace. The man must have seen the wet dirt around Dakaar for he asked, ‘Are you crying? Are you scared for your life?’ Dakaar said he was not scared but saddened that he was failing the people who asked his help. I do not know if this man was moved by Dakaar’s words but what was said was enough to grant us an audience with the ruler of Harbara.

We entered the palace gates and were escorted to a lavish room. Dakaar was troubled by this, and remained in the center of the room. He remained seated on the floor and prayed silently as we waited. We were forced to wait another three days and three nights. Men came in the night and beat us, humiliated us further. Dakaar huddled around me in the corner, protecting me from the attack, and he cried. He cried for he was sorry I was suffering with him, and he cried for he was failing those who sent him on this mission.

In our moments of peace, I shed tears in desperation. We were not offered food or water in our wait. We had crumbs left and so I fasted. I was blessed those days, for it rained and I collected water from the window. Dakaar wept for me and apologized for his lack of strength. He wished he had the power to see the ruler and he prayed we would be fed soon. I prayed for him too. I knew Dakaar could survive without sleep and without eating, but I also knew he suffered from his. He had not eaten in six days and surely it was torture.

On the forth day we were truly granted an audience with the warring-ruler. I stood back as Dakaar approached the man and dropped to his knees. The Warring-Ruler stood tall and looked down at Dakaar. He spoke first. ‘You are the Great Weeping Saint?’

‘They call me that, but I discourage the title. I am neither great nor a saint. I am simply a man named Dakaar. I’ve come to humbly ask for peace for the people suffering from this war.’

The Warring-Ruler laughed at this, ‘How arrogant! Do you expect me to comply so easily?’

Dakaar began to cry, it was clear in his voice, ‘People are suffering. They have put their hopes in me, I know I am but a humble man, but surely you do not want people to suffer? Surely you seek peace?’ The Warring-Ruler laughed at his too and began to stomp heavily on Dakaar’s head.

‘A humble man asks for so much? What a fool! What if I take your arms and legs, what will the people say then?’

‘I will sacrifice my limbs if it means the end of their suffering.’

‘And if I torture you?’

‘I will accept that too.’

‘And if I kill you?!’

‘I will accept all. I will suffer so they will not.’

This angered the Warring-Ruler. In great malice, he took out a short blade, pulled Dakaar up, and cut off his tongue. I know this is what Dakaar has accepted with his miraculous body from the great, unearthly force, I still found this act of violence abhorrent. Dakaar cried out and fell back to the ground. Blood poured from his mouth and the Warring-Ruler held up the cut tongue in a terrible triumph. ‘Will you still preach now, Great Weeping Saint?!’

Terrible moments passed, and I feared the worse, but Dakaar persevered. He returned to his humble bow and spoke to the shock of the Warring-Ruler. ‘I will suffer for others to not. Please, I ask for the peace of the people.’ The Warring-Ruler was horrified. He labeled Dakaar horrible, untrue names, calling him a monster, an unholy being. Surely no human could speak after such a wound. ‘Perhaps I am no longer human, but still I will accept all suffering to bring about compassion and peace.’

Horrified still, the Warring-Ruler attacked Dakaar with his blade once more, into the back. Dakaar cried further, and I knew it was not from the pain, and he repeated his mission and his request.

The Warring-Ruler became angry. From an armory display he brandished long swords and impaled them, one by one, into the back of Dakaar. I am sure the warring-ruler wished to kill Dakaar, I am sure he hated any man who could defy him so strongly. I believe, as I wept for my spiritual inspiration who endured such terrible pain, repeating over and over his mission and his request for peace, Dakaar performed a miracle. I believe, in accepting all the hate of the Warring-Ruler, Dakaar ended the meaningless Harbara-Oyasent war.

With his decorative armory empty, and nine swords impaling Dakaar, the Warring-Ruler collapsed into his chair. Dakaar stood and swayed with the heavy weight in his back. He pushed out the swords that jutted through his chest and his hands bleed at their sharpness. Each sword fell to the grand with a great clang, and with each sword the Warring-Ruler retreated further into his chair.

The Warring-Ruler asked in a soft voice, ‘Why do you cry, Great Weeping Saint? You feel no pain yet you cry.’

Dakaar, with all swords gone from his body, with his clothes stained in blood, with his new tongue, he asked for me. I approached quickly and he apologized, but he needed to wipe his bloody hands. With no hesitation I gave my clothing and he accepted. He cleaned his hands such that they left no red marks and then he approached the Warring-Ruler. He knelt at his feet and held his hands tightly.

‘I cry, for you must have a deep sadness within you. A great, terrible history that has led to such an anger. I’m saddened that you have endured such emotions for so long and I’m saddened I could not have helped you sooner.’

I wish to believe Dakaar performed a miracle, for the Warring-Ruler, after a great pause of silence, agreed to end the war.

The now Renounced-Ruler asked for forgiveness from Dakaar. He asked for Dakaar to join him in a journey to the capital to Oyasent to beg for forgiveness from the country’s ruler. Dakaar forgave the renounced-ruler, but declined the journey. He said he was trouble by interfering with politics of nations, he said such a journey could be misconstrued, but he said too that he was deeply humbled by the offer.

Both I and the Renounced-Ruler were confused by his choice. In making such a journey, he would truly become a symbol of peace and we told him as much. Still, he declined. He said his many years taught him his mission was best acted out quietly. We did not push him further, for we saw there was no convincing him.

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