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A Family Like Mine: Biblical Stories of Love, Loss, and Longing, by Rosalind C Hughes, is available from Upper Room Books.https://bookstore.upperroom.org/Products/1921/a-family-like-mine.aspx
Category Archives: poetry
Flying dark with the bats, I send out prayers, trying to locate God by their echoes. Continue reading
More than 100,000 people have died in the US of COVID-19.
Nearly 360,000 people have died from the disease worldwide. Close to 6 million cases have been confirmed overall.
George Floyd died after saying, “I can’t breathe,” as a police officer knelt on his neck in Minneapolis on Memorial Day. Continue reading
An arpeggio rising beyond our ear, they who strum and straddle the lines between heaven and the earth, the angels incorporeal, they think us foolish to strain after touch, sight, sounds, the echo in our marrow of a descending chord … Continue reading
Rizpah marked mother’s day as any other, sitting on her sackcloth in grim imitation of a picnic blanket, strewn about with the bones of her sons, watching hope deteriorate, refusing to let it be picked clean in the face of … Continue reading
I like to imagine that instead of rolling the stone he turned it into bread for the birds to swarm and peck, hungry for spring time and their nests, carrying it crumb by crumb to feed their young, open-mouthed and … Continue reading
“One of you,” he said, “will betray me,” and each of them immediately beset his soul with cross-examination, face afire with a thousand slights, deft denials and sleight of conscience, self-deception well practised since the first temptation in the Garden … Continue reading
One asks, Is it politic? One asks, Will it profit a man? One asks, Is it legal? One asks, Is it ethical? One asks, Is it even practical? One asks, Is it possible? One asks, Is it blasphemy; if so, … Continue reading
Monday morning: disinfecting doorknobs, disaffecting traders, tilting tables to wipe them down, zealously sanitizing sacred space, swiping between compassion and contempt; mask slipping, brow sweating, having tested positive for mortality Also from Monday’s Daily Office readings: How lonely sits the … Continue reading
After the psalms have died away and the palm leaves dry and brittle in the dust have crumbled underfoot; after the streets have emptied, crowds drained through doorways, their thunder spent, a stone heart whispers still, Hosanna: saviour, save us.