Lamentations and poetry’s high calling
Perhaps it’s this illness, but my mind is a windowless basement. At the moment, a bit feverish, pallid, shaky—on the broader realm, the memory for spellin...
Category: Christianity
Our felix culpa – happy fault
For over a decade he sat watching poplar trees through a front window. And for seven of those years he was part of a little gathering that met each Wednesday—se...
Why a sad song for the road makes you kinder
For my days are consumed like smoke, and my bones are burned as an hearth. My heart is smitten, and withered like grass; so that I forget to eat my bread. The p...
Remembering all victims of war
Peace is not something you must hope for in the future. Rather, it is a deepening of the present, and unless you look for it in the present you will never find ...