Sight to the Blind

Duke stood in the doorway, dusty boots still on. His voice wasn’t angry anymore. Just tired.

“I’ve given you every chance to come under Yah’s covering, Elira. But you don’t want a covering. You want a crown.”

Elira laughed, but there was fear under it.

“You’re just intimidated by a woman who knows what she’s called to do.”

“No,” he said. “I’m heartbroken. Because I see what you could be… but you only listen when it serves you.”

She waved him off—again. And that’s when Duke turned. He walked out, not in rage, but in release. Not to abandon her, but to find the YAH for himself.

At first, she thought he’d come back. He always had. But when the silence lasted weeks, when no one answered her calls, when the walls echoed with her own voice—it hit her. He was gone. And this time, it was because he finally heard Yah.

Her kingdom meant nothing without his honor. Without his heart.

She sat in the chair he used to pray in. The one he asked her to join him at, night after night.

“You were right,” she whispered. “You were right, and I was too proud to see.”

He didn’t leave because he stopped loving her. He left because he finally started loving Yah more.

At first, he wandered. A bed in a friend’s trailer. Meals cooked over a fire. The silence was painful—but it was sacred.

“Abba, I don’t know where to go. I just know I can’t go back.”

And then the Scriptures came alive again. Dreams. Confirmations. Peace.

No business plan. No community start-up. Just a man in the wilderness, learning to hear the Shepherd’s voice for the first time in years.

He stood with the pen in his hand for nearly an hour.

“I can’t return to the Mountain like this... not until I write to the one man I wronged the most.”

Duke knew it wasn’t just about land or leadership—it was about repentance. Real, gut-wrenching, humble repentance. The kind that costs a man his pride but gains him his soul.

He whispered, “Gabriel... I see it now. I see you.”

And with that, the letter began.

Gabriel—

You were right. I didn’t see it then, but I do now.

I brought Elira to your mountain thinking we were part of something sacred. But instead of guarding what was holy, I let pride speak louder than discernment. I stood by while she accused Maari—your bride—of darkness, and I helped her. I let my loyalty to my wife outweigh the truth I knew deep down.

I betrayed the remnant. I betrayed you.

I don’t expect your trust back. I just needed to say I’m sorry and ask you to forgive me.

—Duke